The Dawn of an Eclipse
by Jeb Radic
Summary: What more could a feisty owlet wish for than to find honor, glory, and companionship in the ranks of fellow minded owls? Such is what young Flint clings to after his parents disown him and he is saved by a group of owls like himself. Taught the legacy of their doctrines, Flint swears his life to them. And why shouldn't he, because after all, the Pure Ones are the good guys, right?
1. Author's Note

**[Note From Author]**

I finally contacted Kathryn Lasky about my story, and she told me that she could not read it due to legal reasons. (i.e if she were to read it, any stories that she may write with any similarities would be open to scrutiny.) However, before I contacted her, I ran a major polishing run on my story in case she said she would read my story. Now, I am working on the second half, but in the mean time, here are the 30,000+ words of changes and improvements I have made. There are no changes to the overall plot, however, there are substantial small scale changes and a few new chapters. The majority of changes are after Flint was taken by the Pure Ones, starting with how he first began acquainted with them.

Also I wish to give a big thank you to my good friend AdAstra329 who not only has given me incredible encouragement, but also has given me the wonderful front cover image that you see on the front of my story.


	2. The Day of Night

_ Mechanical and rigid as the time keepers of the long forgotten Others, the Sun, Earth, and Moon in their paths repeat their patterns endlessly until the end of time. These patterns, although separate and unique, occasionally find common ground and overlap. Legends abound in the owl kingdoms where the Earth steals the magen of the Moon during Lunar Eclipses and entrusts the light and its magen to the owls hatched on the night. In the same way the Earth robs the Moon of its light, so does the Moon to the Earth. Darkness befalls the Earth as the moon devours the sun, leaving a golden ring where the sun once was. _

_ The day hollow of the sun's light sheds its blue sky in trade for the pinprick points of light cast by the stars of night. _

A Barn owl perched outside his hollow remembered the words of his father as he now found himself a part of the legend. Snuggling up to his right side was his mate, Windy, known also as Windy and to his left was their young son, Flint. In most cases, the family would have been sleeping at this time of day; however, this day was different. The Day of Night, as called by certain owls, is enough motivation for the mid day escapade.

The family of three and a egg resided in a snug hollow with a spaciously wide limb conveniently growing out just below the rim of the hollow's opening. Located high in a fir tree, the farthermost reaches of the branch provided a wide view of the sky through the dark green needles of the evergreen. There, the three owls were perched.

"It seems like such a long time ago when I first heard the legend from my parents." The owl named Mercury reminisced looking up at the moon now just its own width away from the sun. He lightly leaned his head against the head of Windy, also tucking his half fledged son under his left wing.

Windy churred and smiled. She bent over and affectionately nudged Flint on the wing and began to preen his half grown flight feathers.

"Mum," Flint protested as he pulled back a little.

She and Mercury churred and the family began waiting for the moon to come between the Earth and sun.

"I wish our youngest had hatched out in time to see the Day of Night." Mercury sighed and turned his head around to look into the hollow containing a single egg. The sunlight was shining in on the small, cream white egg nestled in a soft nest of down plucked from under the parents' breast feathers. "The little one is so close to hatching... but just not yet."

Flint looked up through his father's wing and torso. "Why did you have to go get another chick?" Little Flint asked.

"No, no. It's not like that." Mercury comforted his young son, taking the very tip of his brown wingtip and wiping a tear from his son's eyes. "I would have no one else but you with me."

Windy, bending down to eye level with Flint and, poking her head around Mercury's chest close to Flint, added with love, "You are so special to us. Don't ever forget that. You are so smart, and I must say, handsome too."

Flint smiled, "Thank you Mum, Da" Appeased by his parents' comforting words.

Squinting, he looked back up at the sun with his parents to see how close the moon was. It was only half its width away from the sun now.

"Now remember, don't look at it. You will need those eyes of yours for many years." Mercury reminded Flint.

Flint immediately closed his eyes but opened them after a few seconds when he herd a small movement behind him. His parents had apparently heard the sound too, as they both had already turned their heads around facing the hollow.

"The egg, it moved!" Flint exclaimed, hop stepping down the length of the limb over to the hollow opening, his parents close behind.

Resting in its white pile of down, the egg quivered as Mercury and Windy entered into the hollow. Flint tapped the egg on the top with one of his talons and quietly listened. A loud rap emanated from the exact location he had tapped the egg.

"There really is something in there!" Flint's eyes were wide open with awe as he looked at his parents standing over him and the egg.

"Yes there is," Windy informed.

Looking on with great pride at his son and hatching chick, Mercury stated "And you, like every other bird, came from one of these miraculous, Glaux given, eggs."

To the senses of owls, every slight movement and sound was like an earthquake in intensity. Slowly, over a period of a few minutes, the light tapping evolved into a thunderous knocking that resonated throughout the entire shell.

Mercury and Windy's attentions were consumed entirely by the hatching; however, Flint, although interested, occasionally would quickly check how close the moon and sun were getting. He had just turned his head and was looking at the now touching sun and moon through the tree's needles when a sharp crack came from the egg. He excitedly whipped his focus from the eclipse to the hatching.

"Its our little one's beak!" Windy gasped with pure joy and affection, crooning over the egg with Mercury.

When Flint first saw the minuscule glimpse of his sibling's beak breaking through the perfect white surface, he too was filled with excitement, but a worrisome feeling entered his gizzard. It was just a fleeting feeling, not actual words, but it was one of worry over what this sibling might bring? How much of his parents' attention will it take?The feeling passed before Flint even realized he felt it, though deep in his mind, the worry still existed.

Time came to a halt for the family watching the egg. Each nudge, every tap from within, was exhilarating like nothing else. Soon the beak disappeared, then reappeared when it poked through another point on the shell. The process was repeated several times, resulting in a circular ring of holes breaking the smooth surface around a large circumference of the egg.

"It's about to come." Mercury was quivering with excitement.

A darkness like that of night had been falling over the hollow as the light shining in from the sun was cut off by the eclipsing moon. But there came a point where the sun's rays were suddenly blocked completely and the hollow was plunged into darkness.

Startled, Flint jerked around to see the moon fully taking its place between the world and the sun. Speckling the daytime sky were stars and constellations that he had never observed before, but the centerpiece was a brilliant white halo of light surrounding a dark void hovering where the sun once was. At the exact moment that the moon was in perfect alignment with the sun, a shattering crack reverberated throughout the hollow.

Flint quickly turned from peering out the hollow to look back at the hatching egg, but became disoriented for a several moments at what he saw. Like the sun and moon outside, inside the hollow was a ring of white surrounding a dark void. A stunned gasp let out by his parents filled the hollow.

Flint blinked; his eyes were still not adjusted to the darkness yet. A few seconds passed before he realized what he was seeing. Inside the now split egg was a chick. A black Barn owl chick.

Using the last of its energy, the ebony skinned creature tumbled out on hollow floor, her closed eyes bulging and her head weakly weaving about in the air as she strained against gravity to hold it up.

Dead silence filled the hollow with only the family's beating hearts to be heard. Mercury's father had once spoken of a ancient story of a black Barn owl. It was considered to have been descendant of haggish, evil blood and in the tale committed unspeakable crimes against all types of living creatures. Mercury had always imagined the tale to be one that parents devised to scare chicks and fledglings into sleep. But now its words rang painfully deep in his gizzard, shredding it between the simultaneous fear and love he felt for his chick.

Windy was the first to break the silence. Stooping down to where she was nearly flat with the hollow's floor, Windy gently rubbed the little chick's tiny head with her own. With wavering words, she uttered, "Hello... my little one."


	3. Stellaris

In just a short time, the naked little creature began to gain its plumage. Like her skin, the light down that adorns chicks of her age was black like coal. Indeed, even the common white facial disk that is the ornate crown of Barn owls was black, but with a white ring of down in place of the slight darker circle that lines usual facial disks.

The family had barely spoken in the past ten minutes since her hatching. Flint, having never heard the legend of the black Barn owl, did not know to fear the little chick and had snuggled up against his young sister to keep her warm. Meanwhile their parents were perched outside on the limb directly outside the hollow debating the situation.

"You know the story as well as I do." Mercury shuddered and looked down at his talons before continuing. "She is cursed, and the whole world with her if we don't do something."

Windy was aghast with her mate's suggestion.

"What!" She was whispering, but the sharp tone and the quickness of the pronunciation revealed her fury as well as if she were yelling. "She is our chick! How could we do something like that to her? Have you no sympathy for her? She is a living breathing chick. Our chick."

Mercury adjusted his gaze to meet that of his mate's. "I understand that, and I would sooner rip out my own gizzard than harm her. After we lost our first one..." Mercury trailed off, "I will never do anything to harm her."

Windy, hurt by the memory that Mercury had dredged up, quietly spoke, "I still have not been able to shake the deep sorrow with losing our first egg." She closed her eyes, "I can still see every hope, every dream I had for our beloved first egg. I can still see what I imagined he would have looked like." Windy opened her eyes and made deep, soulful eye contact with her mate, "I finally decided our little chick would have been a male, I just know he would have turned out to be a brave, strong owl like you."

The two owls pressed up against each other and embraced, using the other's strength to support their own weakness. Mercury gently tried to comfort his beloved, "It's okay... It's okay..." Quietly, he repeated these words tenderly to his sobbing mate as he felt his own throat burning with grief, demanding that it be allowed to break into bellowing hysteria. But Mercury could not let himself do so, he must stay strong for Windy.

"Windy... My love..." Mercury pulled himself away slightly so he could look her in the eyes, "Please... Please remember, Glaux gave us Flint the day of that fire. He is a miracle in himself, and we have been blessed with a daughter. Today is a joyous day, our chick has hatched, and we should spend time with her."

"But Mercury, Flint isn't the chick we lost, he isn't-" Windy was gently hushed by her mate hushed with a hurt look.

"Windy... Please..." Mercury softly stated, "I thought we had agreed not to talk about this anymore."

"I know." Windy stated, with a pain traumatized expression, "I just can't keep this inside of me all the time."

"I understand." Mercury comforted empathetically, "I can't keep it pent up inside myself all the time either.. But let's please save this to talk about another night." Windy nodded silently, and Mercury continued. "We both should try our best to forget those old tales from the beyond. We should just put that behind us and show love to our precious daughter."

* * *

><p>Flint was nestled up next to his little sister. She was tenderly leaning against him with her eyes closed and breathing softly. Observing her, Flint let his mind wonder. "<em>Why are Mum and Da so scared of you? You just look a little different, and not in a bad way."<em> Secretly though, Flint was glad that his parents were scared of his sister. Since the night that the egg had appeared in hollow, Flint had been dreading it's hatching. They spent so much time paying attention to it, and one of them was always sitting on it. He just could not understand why it got such special care.

But then again, it was a curious thing... So smooth and white, warm to the touch, and there were always sounds coming from it. Sometimes, when Flint was cuddled up next to one of his parents while they were brooding it, he would fall asleep comforted by the gentle melody of liquid circulating within the egg. But of nights within the past two weeks, the sounds of fluid slowly diminishing off, being replaced with somewhat rare sounds of movement inside that would occasionally startle Flint awake.

In retrospect, seeing how large his sister was in comparison to the egg and how she would occasionally twitch, it was clear that those occasional sounds of movement were her moving inside the egg.

But still, this did not explain where the egg came from or why they got it in the first place. His parents were always evasive about telling of the egg's origins. Whenever Flint would ask, they would ambiguously state that "It was given to them,", "It was a blessing from Glaux," or sometimes something like "It's is something that comes when two owls love each other very much."

Never really trusting these statements because they would always catch his parents off guard, he would ask the question often only to be annoyed when they would reply with answers like those or, worse yet, when they would state that he was "Too young to know."

Indeed too young to know many things, Flint did not know how to describe the way he was upset by these statement as having his trust violated.

Feeling the little creature cuddled up next to him adjust its position slightly, Flint could not help but feel a twinge of love for her. She was so small, so tiny, so ugly, but yet so cute.

"Mum? Da?" The hatchling spoke softly, keeping her eyes closed.

She called out again, now distressed because her parents did not hear her. "Mum? Da?" Her eyelids popped open to reveal two sparkling black eyes. Weakly looking up to Flint she asked, "Flint, where are Mum and Da?"

"They're perched outside, I don't know why." Flint replied baffled at how his sister knew his name as it had not been spoken around her since she had hatched.

"Can you go get them? I want to see them" she weakly peeped.

Flint carefully stood up out of the nest of down that he and his sister had been sharing. His sister then sat up as best she could and watched Flint step onto the rim of the hollow and then drop down onto the branch just below.

"Mum? Da?" Flint was still perplexed at why they had no interest in their new family member. "She is awake. She says she wants to see you."

The two looked over at Flint. "We'll be right there" Mercury reassured, almost not catching that Flint said 'she was wanting to see you.' Momentarily taken off guard, Mercury disbelievingly asked Flint what he had said, "Wait, Flint. Did you say that she _wants to see us?_"

Flint nodded, "Ya da'. She just woke up and asked to see you."

Windy turned her head to face Mercury and very quietly whispered. "How does she know how to talk?"

"I don't know." Mercury replied baffled as he started walking down the branch to the hollow and Windy followed.

Seeing his parents were coming, Flint edged away from the hollow opening and walked back to his sister and noticed that much of her down was gummed up with the remains of the fluids that were once in the egg.

Mercury and Windy, only a few moments later, entered into the hollow to see Flint was starting to preen his little sister's down, untangling several strands that were still adhered together from the fluids inside her egg.

Mercury's gizzard was riddled with guilt. It was usually the parents that cleaned the hatchlings after their emergence, but because of their fear, Flint was left alone to this first tender moment with the youngest owl.

The little black owl chick's eyes were closed, but she opened them when she heard her parents. "Mum! Da! I missed you, where have you been?" She stood and took a very weak step forward, tumbling out of her downy nest.

Both owls were indeed startled to see that their hatchling was not only able to speak, but to also stand, albeit very weakly. But those were thought for another time as an agonizing emotional pain ripped through every fiber of Windy and Mercury's body to see their chick's unconditional love for them in light of their recent thought lines. The very thought that they considered their chick a danger to be feared was gizzard wrenching.

"We're here little one" Mercury gently stated, quickly scurrying over to her and gently propping her upright with his wing.

"Da!" the little chick cooed, reopening her eyes.

A deep, unequaled shimmer blazed like the stars in the night sky in her eyes. Mercury and Windy were transfixed with the phenomenal sparkle in their daughter's eyes. They had never seen anything like their daughter before; she was so well developed at such an early age and her eyes were more beautiful than any other owl's eyes they had even seen, even though she should be too young to even open them.

"Dearest," Windy addressed Mercury, "I know what we should name her."

Windy moved in next to Mercury, who was propping up the chick with his left wing. She took her right wing and placed it on the tiny downy shoulder of the hatchling.

Mercury motioned with a wing, "Flint, come here with us." Flint hopped down from the nest where he had just recently been preening the small chick and climbed between his Da's wing and body.

When he was there, Windy continued. "My littlest, from this day until the end of time, you shall be known as Stellaris because the luminosity of your eyes is equated only by the brilliance of the stars."

Stellaris smiled and tiredly, but delightedly, rejoiced "I love that name... I love it... so pretty... so pretty..." She was succumbing to the deep sleep that all chicks feel after their hatching, "so pretty like... like the... sky..."

The little chick was now asleep, sleeping deeper than she ever will again.


	4. A dragonfly premonition

In just a short time, the naked little creature began to gain its plumage. Like her skin, the light down that adorns chicks of her age was black like coal. Indeed, even the common white facial disk that is the ornate crown of Barn owls was black, but with a white ring of down in place of the slight darker circle that lines usual facial disks.

The family had barely spoken in the past ten minutes since her hatching. Flint, having never heard the legend of the black Barn owl, did not know to fear the little chick and had snuggled up against his young sister to keep her warm. Meanwhile their parents were perched outside on the limb directly outside the hollow debating the situation.

"You know the story as well as I do." Mercury shuddered and looked down at his talons before continuing. "She is cursed, and the whole world with her if we don't do something."

Windy was aghast with her mate's suggestion.

"What!" She was whispering, but the sharp tone and the quickness of the pronunciation revealed her fury as well as if she were yelling. "She is our chick! How could we do something like that to her? Have you no sympathy for her? She is a living breathing chick. Our chick."

Mercury adjusted his gaze to meet that of his mate's. "I understand that, and I would sooner rip out my own gizzard than harm her. After we lost our first one..." Mercury trailed off, "I will never do anything to harm her."

Windy, hurt by the memory that Mercury had dredged up, quietly spoke, "I still have not been able to shake the deep sorrow with losing our first egg." She closed her eyes, "I can still see every hope, every dream I had for our beloved first egg. I can still see what I imagined he would have looked like." Windy opened her eyes and made deep, soulful eye contact with her mate, "I finally decided our little chick would have been a male, I just know he would have turned out to be a brave, strong owl like you."

The two owls pressed up against each other and embraced, using the other's strength to support their own weakness. Mercury gently tried to comfort his beloved, "It's okay... It's okay..." Quietly, he repeated these words tenderly to his sobbing mate as he felt his own throat burning with grief, demanding that it be allowed to break into bellowing hysteria. But Mercury could not let himself do so, he must stay strong for Windy.

"Windy... My love..." Mercury pulled himself away slightly so he could look her in the eyes, "Please... Please remember, Glaux gave us Flint the day of that fire. He is a miracle in himself, and we have been blessed with a daughter. Today is a joyous day, our chick has hatched, and we should spend time with her."

"But Mercury, Flint isn't the chick we lost, he isn't-" Windy was gently hushed by her mate hushed with a hurt look.

"Windy... Please..." Mercury softly stated, "I thought we had agreed not to talk about this anymore."

"I know." Windy stated, with a pain traumatized expression, "I just can't keep this inside of me all the time."

"I understand." Mercury comforted empathetically, "I can't keep it pent up inside myself all the time either.. But let's please save this to talk about another night." Windy nodded silently, and Mercury continued. "We both should try our best to forget those old tales from the beyond. We should just put that behind us and show love to our precious daughter."

* * *

><p>Flint was nestled up next to his little sister. She was tenderly leaning against him with her eyes closed and breathing softly. Observing her, Flint let his mind wonder. "<em>Why are Mum and Da so scared of you? You just look a little different, and not in a bad way."<em> Secretly though, Flint was glad that his parents were scared of his sister. Since the night that the egg had appeared in hollow, Flint had been dreading it's hatching. They spent so much time paying attention to it, and one of them was always sitting on it. He just could not understand why it got such special care.

But then again, it was a curious thing... So smooth and white, warm to the touch, and there were always sounds coming from it. Sometimes, when Flint was cuddled up next to one of his parents while they were brooding it, he would fall asleep comforted by the gentle melody of liquid circulating within the egg. But of nights within the past two weeks, the sounds of fluid slowly diminishing off, being replaced with somewhat rare sounds of movement inside that would occasionally startle Flint awake.

In retrospect, seeing how large his sister was in comparison to the egg and how she would occasionally twitch, it was clear that those occasional sounds of movement were her moving inside the egg.

But still, this did not explain where the egg came from or why they got it in the first place. His parents were always evasive about telling of the egg's origins. Whenever Flint would ask, they would ambiguously state that "It was given to them,", "It was a blessing from Glaux," or sometimes something like "It's is something that comes when two owls love each other very much."

Never really trusting these statements because they would always catch his parents off guard, he would ask the question often only to be annoyed when they would reply with answers like those or, worse yet, when they would state that he was "Too young to know."

Indeed too young to know many things, Flint did not know how to describe the way he was upset by these statement as having his trust violated.

Feeling the little creature cuddled up next to him adjust its position slightly, Flint could not help but feel a twinge of love for her. She was so small, so tiny, so ugly, but yet so cute.

"Mum? Da?" The hatchling spoke softly, keeping her eyes closed.

She called out again, now distressed because her parents did not hear her. "Mum? Da?" Her eyelids popped open to reveal two sparkling black eyes. Weakly looking up to Flint she asked, "Flint, where are Mum and Da?"

"They're perched outside, I don't know why." Flint replied baffled at how his sister knew his name as it had not been spoken around her since she had hatched.

"Can you go get them? I want to see them" she weakly peeped.

Flint carefully stood up out of the nest of down that he and his sister had been sharing. His sister then sat up as best she could and watched Flint step onto the rim of the hollow and then drop down onto the branch just below.

"Mum? Da?" Flint was still perplexed at why they had no interest in their new family member. "She is awake. She says she wants to see you."

The two looked over at Flint. "We'll be right there" Mercury reassured, almost not catching that Flint said 'she was wanting to see you.' Momentarily taken off guard, Mercury disbelievingly asked Flint what he had said, "Wait, Flint. Did you say that she _wants to see us?_"

Flint nodded, "Ya da'. She just woke up and asked to see you."

Windy turned her head to face Mercury and very quietly whispered. "How does she know how to talk?"

"I don't know." Mercury replied baffled as he started walking down the branch to the hollow and Windy followed.

Seeing his parents were coming, Flint edged away from the hollow opening and walked back to his sister and noticed that much of her down was gummed up with the remains of the fluids that were once in the egg.

Mercury and Windy, only a few moments later, entered into the hollow to see Flint was starting to preen his little sister's down, untangling several strands that were still adhered together from the fluids inside her egg.

Mercury's gizzard was riddled with guilt. It was usually the parents that cleaned the hatchlings after their emergence, but because of their fear, Flint was left alone to this first tender moment with the youngest owl.

The little black owl chick's eyes were closed, but she opened them when she heard her parents. "Mum! Da! I missed you, where have you been?" She stood and took a very weak step forward, tumbling out of her downy nest.

Both owls were indeed startled to see that their hatchling was not only able to speak, but to also stand, albeit very weakly. But those were thought for another time as an agonizing emotional pain ripped through every fiber of Windy and Mercury's body to see their chick's unconditional love for them in light of their recent thought lines. The very thought that they considered their chick a danger to be feared was gizzard wrenching.

"We're here little one" Mercury gently stated, quickly scurrying over to her and gently propping her upright with his wing.

"Da!" the little chick cooed, reopening her eyes.

A deep, unequaled shimmer blazed like the stars in the night sky in her eyes. Mercury and Windy were transfixed with the phenomenal sparkle in their daughter's eyes. They had never seen anything like their daughter before; she was so well developed at such an early age and her eyes were more beautiful than any other owl's eyes they had even seen, even though she should be too young to even open them.

"Dearest," Windy addressed Mercury, "I know what we should name her."

Windy moved in next to Mercury, who was propping up the chick with his left wing. She took her right wing and placed it on the tiny downy shoulder of the hatchling.

Mercury motioned with a wing, "Flint, come here with us." Flint hopped down from the nest where he had just recently been preening the small chick and climbed between his Da's wing and body.

When he was there, Windy continued. "My littlest, from this day until the end of time, you shall be known as Stellaris because the luminosity of your eyes is equated only by the brilliance of the stars."

Stellaris smiled and tiredly, but delightedly, rejoiced "I love that name... I love it... so pretty... so pretty..." She was succumbing to the deep sleep that all chicks feel after their hatching, "so pretty like... like the... sky..."

The little chick was now asleep, sleeping deeper than she ever will again.


	5. Muffled Words

Latter that night when a mist had rolled in and both of the parents were out hunting, Flint and Stellaris were resting from a vigorous game of ice battle, in which a shiny substance, in this case dragonfly wings, are wrapped around a stick to give it a somewhat icy sheen. Then, pretending the sticks were ice blades, the participants would reenact legendary battles of the Northen Kingdoms. Obviously, as young as Stellaris was, she was no real match for Flint who was a month old. Still, she was quite agile and surprised Flint with her relatively good abilities. 'Relatively good' for her age, that is.

Now, breathing heavily from the activity, the two were conversing.

"Flint?" Stellaris asked

"Ya sis." he replied, sitting down on his nest to rest.

"I really like you. You are a nice brother"

"Sure, well, thank you."

"Your eyes, they look different than Mum and Da's when they look at me." There was a brief moment where the two siblings' gazes were locked.

Flint stepped out of his nest and walked over to his sister who had settled down to rest next to the hollow entrance. He then asked "What do you mean?"

Stellaris now elaborated, "When Mum and Da look at me, I see what I see in your eyes, something nice and special, that they love me. But also there is something there that I don't know what it is. It makes me feel like I am different and strange. Like they are scared of me."

There was a long pause. Flint looked outside, unable to keep eye contact with her. "I've seen it too. I don't know why they are like that."

"There is more Flint." Stellaris coldly stated as she looked outside the hollow with Flint.

Flint's gizzard twinged.

"When Mum and Da come back there are going to be two other owls with them. They look different than us, but that's not the point. When they come in, the two other ones look like they are going to go yeep standing there and they go outside the hollow very quickly. Then when Mum and Da go and come back in later, they have a look in their eyes like when they look at me, but worse." Stellaris was sadly elaborating as if she had already seen what was going to happen.

Flint was taken off guard by what his sister said.

Curiously, he quietly asked, "What do you mean? You can't know what will happen."

Gently speaking, his sister spoke to him. "I see things. Lots of things, things not here now, but later. It's like remembering something that hasn't happened yet. Don't you see them too?"

Their eyes locked again and Flint shook his head not understanding what his sister was talking about.

Stellaris continued, "You know when Da brought in the dragonflies and vole for tweener today, how I told you what he was bringing. It was like I saw him coming in with them when he left. You saw that, right?"

Flint's face was contorted with perplexion, "That doesn't make sense." He then asked another question, "Besides, I don't understand why anyone would be scared by coming into this hollow."

Stellaris shook her head. "I don't know. I just keep seeing them come in and they are scared. I can't tell why. All I can see is them, and then Mum and Da being scared as well."

Shaking his head, Flint just could not believe this outlandish tale. "Stop making things up." He said flatly.

"I'm not, Flint." She said in a hurt tone.

"Yes you are." Flint spatted out spitefully, "Why are you doing this?"

"But Flint!" Stellaris pleaded.

"There is no 'but' to it. You think you are better than me, don't you?" Flint was disgusted with his sister by this point.

"Flint? Why would you say that?" Tears were welling up in Stellaris' eyes as her brother's cruel words cut through her gizzard. "I just..." She was cut off.

"Just shut up." Flint rudely snapped as he hopped up onto his reading perch next to the hollow entrance.

Stellaris was crying pile of black down as Flint flipped open his family's copy of a weather interpretation guide. Tugging at his gizzard was the thought that he had been too rough on his sister, but he tried to dismiss the thought as he decided to retrieve another book from the in-hewn shelves. He looked hard at Stellaris as he hopped down from his reading platform, he then looked at the bookshelves at the back of the hollow trying to determine how much he really desired getting a book. He shook his head in disgust for himself as he slowly approached his sister, still crying, perched in a incoherent ball of quivering fluff next to the hollow exit.

He sighed as he now began to talk gently to his sister. "Look sis, I'm... sorry... for what I said and how I acted."

Stellaris shifted her weight slightly and turned her head away from Flint and outside, up towards the stars.

_ "What have I done?" _Flint thought to himself now as he found himself both at a lack of words to apologize and hating his guts for hurting his sister in the way he did.

"I was... really mean when I said that, I didn't think..." A long drawn out silence carried over while Flint struggled to think of what to say. "I just have not gotten used to having you around. I have not gotten use to sharing Mum and Da's love. I just..." Flint paused for several moments to figure out what he was trying to say.

Stellaris continued on when Flint had stopped to find the right words to say. "I understand Flint. You want to be loved and normal, not like me." She looked up at the stars, they cast their reflection in her tear filled eyes, giving them a true luminous beauty. "I feel the stars will be my only close friends, they will never leave me."

"You are normal, sis. I mean... our down isn't the same color... but we both are siblings, Barn owls. There are our parents, they love us, they love you. Why would you ever be afraid you will ever be alone?"

"I don't know." Stellaris said dejectedly, "It's just a feeling."

"Stellaris," Flint looked down at his talons as if avoiding the already not present eye contact and tentativelyspoke, "No matter what, I will always be there for you, so you won't ever be alone."

Stellaris, half Flint's height, finally turned hear head around and up to meet Flint's eyes still filled with tears, Flint continued more confidently, but still carefully, "I will never abandon you, I will always love you, my wings shall bear you to the sky, together we will always take flight."

Pausing momentarily to wipe a tear from her eye by bringing her head to her side and wiping it with her downy, stubby wing, she appeared truly touched. "You really mean that?"

Flint nodded.

Stellaris began ever so slightly to cry again. Trying to comfort her, Flint stepped forward to where Stellaris was perched on the hollow entrance and put his still downy wing around his sister. The two looked up into the sky at the stars and Stellaris remembered something.

"Flint?"

"Ya sis?"

"What about when Mum and Da come back?"

"I don't know," He replied.

* * *

><p>"So, then the seagull let loose the biggest splat I had ever seen, landing on that poor Barred owl and then he said 'Oops, I didn't see you there, so I guess you mustn't have been a Spotted owl."<p>

A hurricane of churring, or owl laughter, followed the punch line.

"Oh..." laughter interrupted the statement "I had forgotten how funny your stories were, Samson," Mercury slipped in between laughs, wiping a tear from his eye with his transparent eyelid.

The Grass owl that Mercury addressed, known as Samson, laughed deeply. "Just doing my part to keep your memory good."

Gliding through the fir tree's pine needles, the four owls alighted onto the outermost edge of the branch under the hollow.

"I absolutely love your hollow," Meredith, Samson's mate, observed, "The view from the limb here is breathtaking."

"But I hear you have two chicks now." Samson brought up. "I would love to see them before we go."

Windy and Mercury wilfed slightly.

"Windy, we should tell them before the go in," Mercury worriedly stated looking at Windy.

She nodded.

Mercury looked back at their two perplexed visitors and explained. "Samson, you remember when I told you the Legend of Tao, the black Barn owl?"

Still perplexed, Samson nodded in affirmation.

Hesitantly, Mercury continued, "Well, our youngest chick, Stellaris... She... Her plumage is black, completely black."

The two visitors looked at each other with worried looks, then back at Windy and Mercury.

"She is like any other chick, I promise." Windy reassured.

"Please, just treat her like she is normal, because that is what she is." Mercury added.

Samson and Meredith nodded in agreement.

The four made their way into the hollow, Samson and Meredith following Mercury and Windy.

Little Stellaris was standing next to her father when Samson and Meredith entered wholly. Flint was in-between and slightly behind Windy, on his left, and Mercury, on his right. Meredith and Samson, directly in front of the hollow entrance, were attention rapt at the sight of little Stellaris. Their plumage slightly compressed by wilfing, but not by much, the two guests were wide eyed in awe with the sight of little Stellaris taking refuge by her father's side. Flint, slightly hidden between his father and mother, was curious if the two guests would act the way his sister said because they were yet to do so. He took a step forward, out from his partial hiding place between his parents.

A look of pure terror filtered onto both of the guest's faces. They wilfed to a half their size as their wings fell to their sides. Flint himself was scared by Meredith and Samson's reaction as they slowly stepped back as if they had flown into the den of a sleeping bobcat.

Flint tilted his head inquisitively, trying to remain nonchalant, he asked "Why are you doing that?" He continued speaking while taking one step forward, "I promise my sister is not dangerous..." He was cut off as those few actions were enough to send Samson and Meredith fleeing frantically out the hollow opening.

A strange feeling, hybrid of being aghast and perplexed at the two visitors actions filled Mercury and Windy as the two parents slowly looked down at Flint then back outside the hollow.

"We'll be right back, we need to talk to those two." Windy disdainfully spat out, upset at their friends' reaction. She promptly flew out of the hollow followed by her mate, leaving Stellaris and Flint behind, completely baffled.

"Well sis, looks like you're right." Flint flatly stated.

Stellaris slowly asked "Where did they go?"

"I don't know," Flint said as he poked his head outside the hollow to see where their parents had flown to, he then keeping his body half out the hollow turned his head around to look at Stellaris, "Aren't you supposed to know these things?"

His sister just looked at him.

Flint decided to just continue out onto the branch and not try to explain his rather pathetic joke to Stellaris. He shuffled half way down the branch to where beams of light from the moon formed by a light mist were illuminating his white down. A certain, peculiar coldness swept over him.

Flint shivered. _"Bhrr.. So cold." _ Flint thought. He tried to fluff up what few, half grown feathers he had to keep the warmth in his down, but it didn't help, not because his down lacked insulation properties, nor was it even cold outside the hollow. Something was stirring in his gizzard, or perhaps should it be said it was not stirring. But something nonetheless was leaking warmth from Flint, starting in his gizzard and then spreading to every feather, every filament of down on his chest, back, and shoulders.

Flint tried to ignore the feeling as he tried to remember a triangulation lesson his father had taught him.

_ "Slow arcs, three hundred and sixty degrees, just listen..." _Flint was running through instructions taught to him by Mercury on how to use the extraordinary hearing all Barn owls have. _"Wait there's something!— What are you talking about?"_

He stopped the movements when his head was facing directly out the branch, the direction where he was relatively certain his heard the sound of the distant voices. Even with his extraordinary hearing attributed to being a Barn owl, the conversation was sparse and hard to understand.

"Fire was all around us... frantically escape..." Flint strained to hear the whispers muffled by a gentle breeze ruffling countless pine needles and leaves. Nearby, also hindering his hearing, was a creek flowing briskly.

"There was a skirmish..."

The conversation dropped off during a gust of wind. Flint yielded to the temptation of perching on the very outreaching, small edges of the branch farthest from the tree. Once he had made his way to the very shaky fringes, he almost toppled off; however, he managed to catch himself and stabilize his position by positioning himself in a fork formed where the branch divided into a V. Although somewhat precarious, his position was stable and he had no intention of missing out on what was being said. He stopped again to listen.

Flint's mother was speaking, "An egg... we didn't think anything about the circumstances... The tragic loss of our chick, we didn't want to think about it..."

Samson's voice blended in as Flint's mother's dropped out. "That would explain the" he hesitated "The coloration, the resemblances. "

Flint was taken aback by what was said. _"Is that Stellaris he's talking about?" _ Flint stopped thinking to continue listening in.

"We never would have thought..." Flint's father's voice was fading in and out, "But to think that the chick could be..."

Just as Flint was hearing something very important, Stellaris, who had quietly followed him to the outreaching sticks of the branch, bumped against him, making Flint lose his balance. He tipped forward, towards the opening of the V shaped fork. His right foot turned loose from the V, leaving his left foot with a death grip on the branch. For one short moment, Flint felt himself falling, but a sudden jolt where his leg had stretched to its full length stopped him in his fall, upside down.

Flint suddenly felt like yarping as he heard a piercing screech of a Barn owl chick, most directly translated as yell of pure terror. For one brief moment, he saw his sister tumbling through pine needles, her dark coloration blending into the dark, dense brush growing brush below.A soft dampened thud of down on thick leaves pierced Flint like the sharpest battle claws.


	6. Fallen

Flint, dangling upside down and wings completely limp in a yeepish state, was frozen during the immediate moments following his sister's fall.

A few seconds passed before he could even truly process what had happened. In utter shock, Flint called out quietly, although it was as loud as he could muster, "Stellaris?"

No response.

Now louder, Flint called out again, "Stellaris are you okay?"

Still no response.

Flint was now becoming frantic. Screeching at the top of his lungs, he shouted, "STELLARIS!".

Flint was left hoping for some response as his ear splitting screech's echo trailed off, but his hopes were not fulfilled. Instead he felt a slight tremor shake the branch he was dangling from. He looked up to see the underside of his father.

Mercury was looking down past Flint worriedly. Not adjusting his gaze, he reached down, locking talons with Flint, and quickly pulled him up onto the branch.

"Where is she?" Mercury spoke sternly; in fact, more sternly than Flint had ever heard his father speak.

Flint, horrified that he had just killed his sister, was unable to speak, so he just looked down at the ground and pointed with his right wing.

"Go back into the hollow this instant!" Mercury practically barked to his chick.

Flint wilfed at the sharpness of his father's voice. As Mercury lifted off of the branch to search for Stellaris below, Flint timidly made his way back to the hollow. Windy, Meredith, and Samson were already below in the tangled mire of bushes and shrubs beneath the tree.

Flint was perched nervously on the rim of the hollow entrance, waiting to hear the report on his sister. Every minute was excruciatingly long, and after about ten had passed, Flint was getting extremely anxious. He could hear the occasional word, but for the most part, the four owls below were silent as Mercury and Windy tended to Stellaris.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mercury emerged from the brush below and began circling up around the tree. In his cupped talons was Stellaris, unconscious. For the time Mercury was ascending, Flint's gaze was affixed on Stellaris. His attention was so entirely focused on his sister that he failed to notice his mother fly out and up of the undergrowth below.

She landed next to Flint on the hollow rim.

Flint quickly asked "Is Stellaris okay? How is she?"

Windy turned her head towards Flint and began looking him over with a look containing both terror and disgust.

"Mum? Why are you looking at me like that?" Flint's voice cracked, "Is Stellaris alive?"

Windy's voice was hard as stone as she spoke, "Yes." She scowled, "Now get out of the hollow!"

Flint wilfed at his mother's hard command. "Yes Mum." he timidly uttered as he hopped down on the branch.

By now, Mercury had circled up to hollow level and slowly glided into the opening. He expertly came to an immediate stop and began a hoover. It was a difficult feat, but he managed to place Stellaris just inside the opening of the hollow. He ended his hoover and dropped down onto the branch. Windy was already standing over Stellaris, gently rubbing her daughter's head with her wingtips.

"My dear, please be okay." Windy choked out between tears of worry.

Flint looked into the hollow and tentatively asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Mercury, with his back to the hollow entrance, was blocking Flint's view of his sister. Without even turning his head around to look at Flint, Mercury said, "You have done enough already."

Flint blinked and thought to himself, _"What do you mean?"_ He stood there perplexed and feeling guilty for accidentally knocking his sister off the branch. He spent the last half of the night perched on the branch outside the hollow, looking in at his parents tending his injured sister. Her condition improved throughout the night, at sunrise, she was just regaining consciousness.

Flint, feeling alone and unloved, was left outside the hollow. He fell asleep with the first rays of sunlight seeping into his eyes.


	7. Abandonment

Bright, midday sunlight awakened Flint. Because he was unaccustomed to sleeping outside during the day, he was unable to sleep in the strong light. He gently yawned and opened his eyes. Immediately, his thoughts turned to his sister.

"Mum, Da, Stellaris?" Flint called out and looking into the family hollow. He couldn't see anyone, but from his location he couldn't see inside the entire hollow. So Flint hopped up onto the hollow's rim. He stopped, taken off guard for a moment by the sight. The hollow was void of his family.

Flint's heart quickened as he yelled out for his parents. "Da! Mum!"

He stood, just inside the hollow opening, fully expecting to hear his parents' reply. A few seconds passed and he heard nothing.

The silence set his mind racing as fast as his heart. In his fear, Flint thought to himself, _"Where are they? They would never have left to hunt at this time of day, and where is Stellaris?"_

That line of logic stuck deeper fear into Flint's gizzard and he turned his head around, shifting his gaze from the interrogator of the hollow to the trees outside. With no responses or movements to be seen, Flint stepped out onto the branch and began quickly pacing back and forth frantically looking in every direction for his parents and sister.

"MUM!? DAD!? MUM!? DA!?" Flint called repeatedly.

Stopping to wait for a response, he heard nothing.

Flint's gizzard felt like it was turning into a thin jelly as he began shaking. Tears started to well up in his eyes as he continued calling. But there were never any responses.

But to Flint, every time they failed to respond, his fear and anxiety increased. He continued calling for several minutes until his voice began to fail him.

"MUM!? DA!?"Yelling one last time, Flint truly realized that his parents were not going to hear him.

_ "They both have never been gone this long on a hunting trip." _Flint dismally thought. _"But they will be back. They have to."_

Flint perched himself, too scared to cry, directly in front of the hollow entrance and began faithfully waiting for his parents carrying Stellaris to return from wherever they had gone.

* * *

><p>Near the stony banks of the River Hoole, two barn owls and their chick were taking shelter in a underground hollow underneath an ancient oak tree. Windy was near the opening of the hollow cave, tending a large cut on her daughter's head with some herbs that were growing nearby. In the dark recesses in the absolute back of the hollow, Mercury was digging with his talons.<p>

"I feel like a burrowing owl." He stated with a slight overtone of depression trailing in his voice.

Windy had soaked one of her mate's large downy feathers with cold water running in the river just a few feet away. She had laced it with some shredded herbs and was rubbing the cut running along Stellaris' left brow.

Paying little attention to Mercury's statement, she inattentively agreed, "Yes." Instead, she was looking deeply into her daughter's eyes as she gently rubbed Stellaris' head with one of her wings. "There we go little one. All better."

Stellaris looked up at her mother. She had a sad expression on her head as she tilted it and asked her Mum a question. "Mum... Where's Flint?"

Windy's gizzard clenched as she looked down, but away from her chick."He's not with us anymore." Windy tentatively stated.

Stellaris continued looking at her mother for several seconds, expecting an explanation. Finally, she decided to ask another question. "Why isn't he with us?"

By this point, Windy had thought her gizzard couldn't clench any tighter, but she was agonizingly wrong as she stuttered for an explanation. "Well... he..."

A scratching sound at the back of the hollow caught Windy and Stellaris' attention, giving the poor mother a good escape from her daughter's question. Windy, who was standing facing the sunny opening turned her head around to look at Mercury.

Mercury looked at the square, inch deep indentation in the dirt he had dug. It revealed a flat piece of wood imbedded in the ground that served to hide a cavity below.

Mercury lifted up on the piece of wood, rotating it on its edge, and propping the makeshift trap door open.

Although awkward for an owl, balancing on one foot while using the other to manipulate a heavy object, he had managed to quickly and effectively heave open the door.

Stellaris looked on with rapt attention as her father hopped down into the hole. Some metallic rattling issued, then Mercury emerged with a slightly dulled helmet on his head and an exquisitely crafted set of battle claws strapped to his talons. This pair in particular was special because, unlike normal claws which fit onto the individual talons, this pair was a set of three finely serrated blades each. The blades, several inches long, were strapped parallel and over the talons, giving the user greater penetrating power and unhindered dexterity with his talons.

Mercury reached down into the opening and retrieved another helmet with a similar pair of battle claws lying in it. He placed it next to him, between him and the hollow opening.

He looked at Windy and grimly stated, "I'm afraid you are going to have to put these on again. You know how dangerous it has become for Barn owls since the supposed 'Pure' Ones captured St. Aegolius."

"I know dear." she replied.

Stellaris peeked around her mother and, to her father, asked, "What are you wearing Da?"

Mercury took off his helmet and placed it next to his mate's, "Just some protection" He then later added to himself, _"Just protection. No more killing. Please Glaux, no more."_

"What about Flint? Where is he? I don't understand why he isn't with us." She asked, changing the subject back to her first question.

Mercury tried to avoid his daughter's question as he answered, "Perhaps it is just best you don't understand." Mercury paused, "Now you need to sleep and heal."

"But Da..." She whined. "Why isn't Flint here with us?"

"He just isn't," Windy tried to say in the most gentle and reassuring way she could, "Now it's daytime, and you need to sleep."

Stellaris slowly looked at both of her parents. She had never seen them acting in such a way, nor had she seen an actual pair of battle claws. Never would she have expected her parents to possess some. But she quietly obeyed her parents' command. Her father was standing next to the makeshift nest of twigs and rabbit fur moss as she got into it. Mercury then plucked several downy feathers out of his chest plumage and gently tucked them around Stellaris.

"I love you little one." he tenderly stated.

Stellaris looked her father in the eye and responded, "I love you too." She then turned her head around and rested it on her back to sleep. While trying to fall asleep, her thoughts returned to a feeling she had felt earlier, just before she had fallen.

It was, in fact, more than a feeling. It was more of a premonition; however, Stellaris did not know to call it that or even that it was unusual for owls to have this power. This particular one occurred as she was following her brother out onto the branch. While experiencing this 'foresight', she mindlessly continued walking and bumped into Flint. From there, she briefly remembered falling from the branch and then waking up about half an hour ago.

She began thinking back on the feeling she felt earlier. It was strange. Her surroundings were dark and blurry as she felt like she was floating in a deep mist. Directly in front of her, the mist lightened to reveal her parents stooping over something in a nest. The hollow slowly materialized around her, and back behind her was Flint sleeping outside in the rising sunlight. Their parents appeared to be talking to each other, but there was no sound. Then Mercury looked around.

At first, Stellaris thought he was looking at her, but she slowly realized that her parents did not see her even though she was standing directly in their line of their sight. Mercury and Windy were both looking at Flint sleeping perched on the branch outside, but after a few moments they turned to look each other in the eyes.

Their expressions were sad as Windy subtly nodded to Mercury. She then took off out the exit as Mercury scooped something small up into his talons. Relative to where Stellaris was standing, the 'something' in question was on the other side of Mercury in the downy central nest, so Stellaris could not see what it was. However as Mercury flew past Stellaris, who was standing next to the hollow exit, she saw what was in his talons, a unconscious black Barn owl chick. At that very moment, Stellaris realized she was seeing herself at a different time, from an outside perspective. Immediately afterwards, the vision had ended as she physically collided with Flint and was sent falling.

She was reflecting on this sight as she was trying to sleep. _"Why did Mum and Da leave our hollow with me? Why did they leave Flint?" _ Soon, she was overcome with weariness and the thought trickled off into slumber

* * *

><p>Having made sure Stellaris was asleep, Windy and Mercury had perched on a large sandstone rock along the bank of The River Hoole. The perch was not far from the old oak tree that was hanging partially over the water, but the river was loud enough to cover their conversation.<p>

Mercury was in deep thought looking down at his helmet, which was resting next to him on a large level portion of the rock..

"Are you sure we have done the right thing?" He asked Windy who was next to him.

She sighed. "We can't double guess our choices Mercury. You know what Samson and Meredith saw, you know what they know."

"We are his parents Windy." Mercury was still staring at his helmet, thinking deeply. "He is our responsibility, no matter what we may know. Perhaps he might turn out differently than we expect."

Windy glared at her mate, thus cutting him off. "But how could you risk it? He is a danger. A danger to Stellaris, and a danger to us. We did what we did to protect her. If she truly is an owl like Tao from the legends, we cannot risk her falling to bad influences. We must keep her safe from every possible negative influence and evil that exists."

Mercury finally met his mate's gaze as he spoke, "I understand. But he will be the second we've lost. What chance do we have at being good parents to Stellaris if we abandon him?" There was a long drawn out silence, "When I spoke to him after he pushed his sister off the branch, he seemed deeply regretful."

Windy looked deeply into Mercury's eyes. "And yet he pushed her all the same."

"I just can't live knowing we left him to starve and die so terribly." Mercury cast a wary look at his mate. "Perhaps I should go tie up loose ends and make it quick for him."

Windy wilfed at the suggestion, but she seemed to agree. "We should ask ourselves 'What if he should somehow survive?'." She sighed. "We cannot risk it. For all owls, we must do it."

Mercury's face cringed into a visage of pure emotional pain as he spoke with shattered tones, "I will be the one to do it."

Windy embraced her mate and cried in very sorrowful tone. "Oh Mercury... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..." These were the only words she could say.

He simply pulled away from Windy and lifted into the air.

The distance between where he and Windy were and the tree with their hollow was not too terribly far, just a league or two, so Mercury steadied himself, trying to force the courage and strength to do what need be done. As he was passing well known landmarks that marked close proximity to the hollow where Flint was, Mercury decided to be careful in his approach to the tree, lest Flint see him should he be awake.

The thought of having to look into his son's eyes one last time before forever shutting them would literally shatter his gizzard. It would just be so much easier to do what needs be done if Flint were just asleep.

But as he neared the hollow, all hopes for that were lost as Mercury heard Flint's desperate calls for him and Windy.

Being careful not to be seen as he neared sight range of the hollow, Mercury remembered a cluster of trees with heavy foliage. He could use those as cover to observe Flint while he tried to ready himself for what he knew would be the darkest moment of his life.

So, Mercury carefully flew into the trees and found a good observation point. It was slightly higher than the branch Flint was perched on and not too terribly far away. Watching Flint, Mercury felt his task becoming infinitely more difficult to finish by the second. He just could not believe that he was contemplating doing this to Flint.

But there Flint sat, looking about vigilantly for his parents. He would occasionally call out in a brokenhearted tone for his mother and father, making Mercury wish so much that he could forget what he had learned about Flint so he could land on the perch and embrace him.

Mercury could remember the incredible pride he felt when Flint hatched, the worry for his future, the excitement of raising him - everything a caring father could feel. But even at that point in time, he and Windy knew about Flint. They both knew what they know now, but they both had spent their entire lives forgetting things that they did not wish to remember, so they forgot that one solitary fact about Flint and lived their lives happily until Stellaris was hatched.

But now, there is no excuse to ignore that fact; there is no way to rectify the situation. Flint cannot be a part of this family; Flint cannot be allowed to survive.

However, with Mercury seeing Flint's terrified, emotionally broken face, it would be impossible for him to kill his beloved son.

Closing his eyes and sighing, Mercury quietly entered into flight back to Windy and Stellaris. All along the way, the only feelings and the only thoughts that Mercury could even experience were as follows:_"What a loathsome creature am I."_


	8. The Waking of Stellaris

Like the surface of a brook's waters flowing with great disturbance over the rocks and unknown structures hidden below its surface, so was Stellaris' mind breaking against undercurrents of her subconscious as she existed in a state of slumber. It hardly should be called a sleep though, for there was no rest to be found nor any comfort to be sought. Images and voices flashed before her mind at incredible rates whose speed were only matched by the degree of how distraught this little chick was.

She had a fleeting sense of her father leaving, flying back for Flint. But not for rescue nor even anything of a positive sort, but rather seeking goals of some unknown darkness that threatened to consume Mercury in the depths of cruelty. But there was something far worse lurking in the depths of her mind, but yet it was intangible. It was something that once existed but does no more; its nature was fleeting and dark, yet indefinite and fuzzy.

Whatever this manifestation may be, though, Stellaris knew through the netherworld of consciousness that one resides in during the state of dreaming that this entity she sensed was not something of her own mind.

She awoke with a scream, or at least she thought she did, for once a wingbeat's worth of hazy seconds had passed, she realized that the voice was to low and mature to be hers.

The scream was her mother's.

Fear flushed through Stellaris as she jumped from her cozy nest, sending the feathers that her father had lovingly tucked next to her flying into the air. Even with this owl's phenomenal perceptions, though, she had no inclination that those would be the last feathers her father would ever tuck around her.

Her gaze fastened to the hollow entrance, then she stopped. She knew an owl was going to come in in only a few moments. She must hide, but where?

Quickly scurrying over to the darkest recesses of the burrow, close to the wooden trap door, she began to press up into a groove in the wall, but a quick flash of insight and a number of images filled her mind. In response to this, Stellaris quickly scurried around the piece of wood to the wall located on the other side. She forced herself to fill in a slight indentation, closed her eyes, and held her breath just as a Masked owl wearing a set of battleclaws and a helmet stepped in.

He turned his head back to look outside the hollow and yelled, "Private! Be certain that owl is bound well, and get her beak tied up too! We don't need her biting through the vines."

From outside, a muffled, "Yes Sir." fell upon Stellaris' earslits, though she dare not move to see who it was that had spoken.

The owl walked with a certain military stiffness and straightness that showed confidence, though his posture also showed subtle signs of an owl with a degree of caution as he slowly moved about the burrow.

He saw no one, but he kept his attention traced on the large opening where Mercury and Windy had retrieved their weapons some minutes earlier. He stepped over to it and slowly, he paced a circle around it looking intently down below. Stellaris, pressed against the wall blended in perfectly with the darkness and was unseen as as the owl slowly orbited around the opening closer and closer to where she stood hiding. Stopping in front of Stellaris, he carefully bent down to look at what may lie inside.

It was completely dark within causing the cavity's volume to be unknown. Curiosity and the objective of meeting his quota of 'recruited' owls drove him to investigate if there be any 'candidates' inside. Yet the owl remained outside, knowing that should there be someone inside when he investigate, that he would be at a tremendous disadvantage when he entered.

He bent over further, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness and sticking his tail up in the air to keep balance.

Stellaris, directly behind the owl, took full advantage of the owl having such a tender region within such easy striking range.

Fully knowing what was about to be, she had taken the prior moments to adjust her position and get a firm footing on the ground where she stood. Once ready, she lept forward with her full might and slung both of her feet up, striking the aforementioned tender area with surprising force, then latching on with her talons for one brief moment before pushing back off, her backwards velocity creating a forwards velocity that pushed the stunned and limp owl toppling over into the cavity.

Quick to get back to her feet, Stellaris sprinted over to where the wooden door had been pulled open and propped up. There, she wedged herself between the slab of wood and the wall it was leaning against.

It took all her might to force the wooden door up vertical, but after being propped perpendicular with the ground, gravity took over and slammed the wood shut on the cavity holding the groaning and stunned owl.

Exhausted by that moment of pure exertion, Stellaris could only lay on her back and churr. Though she knew not what was so funny, she was letting out long, trailing laughs of pure satisfaction.

But these churrs were slowly losing strength as an intense mental weariness took over and she began succumbing to a comatose like sleep. It felt much like being pulled under water and having one's foot tied so drowning would be guaranteed. The initial minute strikes the soul with pure terror, but once the lungs refused to hold their air any further and fill with water, your last sights are the tranquil refractions of sunbeams whose beautiful playings across the surface of the water sooth your soul into the transition to the world that lay beyond.

And so Stellaris fell asleep like this, her last thoughts before slipping into a deep slumber being a sky filled with lustrous, glimmering stars, secretly whispering their secrets into her ear.

But other owls were still wake, most notably the owl that was spoken to outside the hollow by the now trapped owl.

Having his attention caught by the initial slam of the door in the ground followed by a haunting chorus of churring, the owl quickly lofted over to the hollow entrance, battleclaws at the ready to strike the heart of what had created such a racketous noise.

His initial peer into the hollow yielded no sight of any creature to produce such a noise, obviously setting off alarms in his head because he saw his commanding officer enter without exiting only moments before. Quietly fearing supernatural influence because of the strange laughter and odd disappearance of his commander, the owl said a quick prayer he had learned in the beyond from a collection of hireclaws. This prayer, directed at no deity in particular, is believed to dispel hagsfiends and protect the owl from the forces of Naftur.

With indescribable caution, the owl tiptoed into the burrow, comforting himself by reminding himself that this tree was not a dead drop, so it would not be unconditionally haunted by scrooms or hagsfiends.

His eyes glanced over Stellaris' unconscious form, almost missing it. He shrunk back startled for one brief moment once he realized that her body was not just a clump of moss or dirt.

He stepped closer, the quick shot of adrenaline from being startled being replaced with the much worse primal dread of true fear.

It was not a crow's chick, or any other Corvid's for that matter. The face, the budging feathers, the shape or the body - all were clearly of that of a species of raptor.

He stepped closer to the chick, eyes rapt on it, mind accelerating to new places so quickly that he failed to notice that he was standing on the wooden slab.

Now only a mere foot away from the black creature, the owl stared at it with terrible thoughts running through his mind. _"What are you?"_ He asked, fearing in the back of his mind that somehow this creature had made his comrade vanish, or worse, had banished him to hagsmire.

Though even through this fear, the owl slowly reached out to grab the chick, half expecting it to spring to life and call upon him some terrible enchantment. His goal was to drag it out into sunlight, for he knew no hagsfiend could be seen on the nights with full moons, so what if they are exposed to sunlight?

The tips of his claws hoovered only an inch from the creature, and as he was overcoming his fears of touching it, a terrible screech from unknown location befell his earslits.

In a moment of pure panic, the owl instinctively reacted by heaving his wings into flight, causing him to collide with the burrow's ceiling only inches above. He screeched a shrill cry of terror as a reaction and flailed legs about, carving deep gouges into the wood below.

As he was flailing and stumbling about in a life or death attempt to flee the hollow, the Sooty owl realized that the scream was from his commander, and it was more of a bellowed order to move the piece of wood.

Shaking, he stood halfway between the burrow's opening and the wood covering the cavity in the ground. The black chick simply lay in the same position it was in, but it had a clearly audible heartbeat so it must be alive.

"Private!" The commanding officer screeched, "What's the situation! Are you okay?"

The Sooty owl gulped down a mouthful of thick saliva that then proceeded to slowly make its way down his throat. "Yes sir. I was just startled, that's all."

"Soldier, you won't last on the battlefield if you are startled that easily. Did you see who closed this on me?" He asked indignantly.

Now seeing that the black creature had not actually cast some form of enchantment, the Sooty owl felt an incredible surge of bravery and walked over to the chick. "Yes sir, I see it right here. And believe me, I had good reason to be startled."

"You' had better have a frinkin good reason to act in such a cowardly manner. What is it?"

Carefully grabbing the creature and pulling it out of the way so it would not be smashed when the door was opened, the soldier shook his head. "It's unconscious but... Major Henson, I don't know what it is. You have to see it. I don't know what it is..."

"Well get me out so I can See!" Major Henson bellowed.

So without further delay, the soldier began pulling open the door, grateful that the top side would be facing upside down. In the solitary moment of pure panic, certain key muscles had tensed in terror and caused a generous helping of his splat to find a resting place on top of the wooden door.

Major Henson promptly lofted out of the dank hole and looked his underling in the eye.

"Private, what frinkin' owl or whatever it is did this to me!?"

The soldier, discreetly knocking a mound of dirt over on top of a drop of splat that had missed the wooden door as to hide the accidental discharge. He held a firm eye contact to ensure his commander would not look down to see such a humiliating sight. "Sir, I don't know what it is. I don't know." Only after he had finished talking did he look down at Stellaris.

Major Henson was almost taken off guard by this little chick, "What in hagsmire..." He muttered, not finishing his sentence. "Is that... A black Barn owl?" He asked.

The Sooty owl shook his head, "I don't know." He paused, "But it would have to be if the female we caught is the mother."

Major Henson wilfed, "Private, if this is a family, where is the father?"

They both turned and quickly walked to the opening, though they thought they had no reason to run because they knew not for sure even if there was another owl. But there was indeed reason to be alarmed once they reached the opening and peered out.

Mercury stood over Windy, cutting her bonds. However, she was still unconscious and Mercury knew that it was outside his capability to carry her and outrun these owls. However, doing so would still leave Stellaris in their custody, and that something that he would never allow.

_"I should have killed them when I had the element of surprise."_ Mercury chewed himself out, despising his own guts. He had grown soft, he had lost his lethal edge. But he had good reason not to attack them in the burrow, the primary being that he could not risk Stellaris accidentally being hit by a stray battleclaw.

This was the second time today he had choked up on the blade, and now he will pay for it.

Major Henson pressed his wings against his side and stood tall, both movements being the posture of a proud and strong military officer. Speaking in a condescending and very sarcastically droll tone, the major spoke, "Well now, aren't you brilliant? I am sure that your unconscious friend will be of great help in fighting us."

Mercury glared at the major.

"_The Pure Ones officers are always so frinkin' arrogant." _Mercury said to himself said with great contempt. He had always hated them and how they always so very egotistically believe that their dry sarcasm is both elevating and amusing.

Saying nothing, Mercury adjusted his posture into an advancing threat position and slowly started walking towards them, studying their reactions and daring them to leave the hollow and attack. In a face to face ground confrontation like this, the experienced fighter knows to never attack first unless there is a very perceivable weakness. Mercury could name several specific ones about each individual owl that he could see, but the two together more or less nullified any weaknesses. An attack like that would be foolish.

Both owls casually stepped back into the cavity.

Like a tree scarcely held tall by a week stump, so was Mercury's gizzard. Likewise, when the tree falls with tremendous destruction to itself, so did Mercurys gizzard. He knew what they were planning.

"Ignoble Cowards!" He screeched vehemently, "Face me like the soldiers you claim to be!"

"Why should we face you if there is a better solution?" Major Henson called back flatly.

Mercury, nearing a fit of rage, rushed to the burrow's opening in a half flight, half running frenzy.

Reaching a point where he could see inside, Mercury froze as he observed with great horror Major Henson with his battleclaws pressed into the back of Stellaris laying unconscious on the ground.

"An owl like you might possibly leave his mate behind in such a situation..." Major Henson smiled grimly, "But you would never let anything happen to your chick."

At this moment, were it within Mercury's power, he would let the most primal beast inside of him lose and break the neck of this owl and then place the severed head some place high... But such a power was not within his grasp.

The tender love he felt for his daughter stopped him, knowing that in the process of killing these two owls his daughter might too be killed. So like a fallen tree, Mercury's willpower was now dead; however, leaves on fallen trees remain alive for some time and can perhaps even fool some observers that the tree is still alive. So in an attempt to convince both the Pure Ones and himself, Mercury replied quickly with an acute rebuttal. "I'm sure that a Dirtfaced Tyto like yourself would receive a great reward from your commander for killing a pure Alba."

The face of Major Henson twitched at the comment. A moment passed and Major Henson rebutted "An Alba is not an Alba unless someone of power knows it."

The threat cut Mercury to the core in one fell swoop. This owl had no reason to report the death of an Tyto Alba's, or in other words a Barn owl's, chick to his commander, and it is doubtful that anyone would ever find out.

Mercury stood completely motionless, staring down an owl he will forever loath as said owl began putting greater and greater pressure on the battleclaws resting firmly on Stellaris' back. Distraught to the core, the infinitely concerned father felt greater and greater despair as he heard the muscles of the Major Henson's leg tense tighter and tighter, signifying greater and greater pressure being exerted on his daughter's skin by those terrible weapons of war.

"It's your choice. Resist us and she dies." The major commented matter of factly.

A quiet popping sound of the skin being broken reached Mercury's earslits and he broke fully.

"Please don't hurt her." Upon uttering these words, Mercury's throat clenched and his voice cracked and squeaked. Words could not describe the disparity, anger, rage, malice, hatred, and so many other deadly and hurtful feelings he was feeling towards these two owls.

Mercury laid himself down onto the ground and Major Henson's subordinate began the process of binding him as Major Henson himself remained with his battleclaws at Stellaris' neck to ensure Mercury's cooperation.

As the final knot was being tied, Mercury wished deeply that he could have just managed to stay strong and say the last sentence without giving these owls the pleasure of seeing and hearing the breaking of his gizzard.


	9. Subversion

Flint was nestled up in his soft downy nest sleeping. A soft, heavenly tone enveloped him in a gentle melody.

_When you wake in the evening,_

_I'll be there right beside you,_

_with love and a song in my heart._

_You are my little blessing,_

_Dear, I'll always love you,_

_My life you will always be a part._

_I will never leave you,_

_I will always be with you,_

_Even when far away._

He sleepily rustled in his nest. Flint recognized the song as the song his mother always sung for him.

It was his song, born of his mother's love for him.

His heart lept as he opened his eyes, but he was met with the silence of a empty hollow. "Mum? Da?" Flint dejectedly called, hoping to hear them reply.

They did not and Flint realized that the song he had heard was simply a dream.

He felt like his gizzard was going to drop out of his body.

_ "They're not coming back." _Flint dismally thought.

He had been loyally waiting an entire day his parents return. He knew that they would come back; so much did he expect them to return that he had put his whole emotional well being -his whole gizzard and scroomsaw- into faithfully awaiting their return.

Holding back his gizzard and sense of self from being dashed completely, Flint lethargically walked over to the hollow's opening.

It was midday, but there was no chance that he was going to sleep now. His whole slumber cycle had been thrown completely to the gulls because he stayed up the entire duration of the day yesterday, only falling asleep well into the night.

Scanning about the world he could see, Flint could observe very little beyond ten or so yards through the thick pine needles and foliage in most every direction except up. He did not know what he could do even had he been able to see beyond his limited range. He can not fly; indeed, he lacks all but the budging shafts of his feathers.

Hunger had set in long ago; because for a growing owlet, food is needed at regular intervals. _"So hungry..."_ Flint thought to himself, feeling a hollowness like he had never felt before carving out his guts.

He stepped further out onto the limb and sighed. Flint was much too young to know the words whose meanings would describe his feelings at this exact moment, but if he did, those words would be forsaken, betrayed, disowned, cast off, and abandoned.

_"Abandoned."_ he said referring to himself.

Perhaps Flint did know at least one of the words, and that one word summed up some of his feelings perfectly. But other feelings still lurked beneath those, anger directed at his parents being one in particular.

How could they do this to him? How could they have taken Stellaris and left like this.

Flint closed his eyes in sorrow, _"How could they have left me to die?"_ was the question he asked himself.

But indeed, it was very clear to Flint that if his parents had left him intentionally, then they had every intention to let him starve to death if his broken gizzard did not kill him first.

Left with nothing else to do, Flint sat in the silence of his abandonment, quietly scanning the ground and sky in hopes of seeing an owl or any other bird for that matter that he could talk to, though his parents told him that no owls would ever dare flying in the daytime because of crow mobs - whatever those were.

With loneliness carving away at Flint in much the same way as his hunger, the quietness was like pangs of hunger and was quite hard to bear. But an hour passed and he saw a glimmer of hope through the tree tops.

A large bird of a kind that was much too far away to identify at the moment made its presence known. Flint's heart skipped a beat upon seeing it through the foliage. Moments after, Flint spotted several other birds that were flying in his direction a quite respectable distance above the treeline.

As they neared the airspace directly above, Flint saw that they were owls and his heart skipped another beat with such a realization.

Waiting a short while for them to draw closer, Flint let out a loud but hoarse call to them once he felt they were close enough to hear it. The call consisted not of words, but rather of a variation upon the begging call that chicks sometimes give when they are hungry when a parent arrives with food.

The owls payed no apparent heed to Flint's call and continued in their path that would take directly overhead, so Flint called out again, this time with spoken words. "Hello? Please Help me!"

The formation of six owls appeared to take no head again, and when they began to pass directly overhead, Flint called out desperately again. "Please Help Me!"

This time, Flint's call was heard and he saw some of the owls look directly down at him. When they began to turn in their flight far above, Flint felt he might faint of joy; he could only have been more excited had these owls been his parents.

A short few minutes later, the first owl landed nearby on a tree. She was a species of Tyto that Flint had never seen before, and she was clad in battleclaws and a helmet.

She suddenly spoke with concern and tenderness, "Young'un, are you okay?"

"My... uh..." He was hesitant, abashed with shame and embarrassment to tell that his parents had abandoned him. "My mum and da are gone."

"What do you mean, little one?" Another owl, a Tyto as well but this one a male, said landing on another nearby branch.

"I mean... They left me and took my sister and haven't come back for a day." Flint's innocent and broken gaze pierced the two owls as he looked at them for answers. "Do you know where they are?"

By now, the entire formation had landed about Flint. Every one of them was a Tyto, and every one was wearing a set of battleclaws and a helmet, making Flint feel uneasy and vulnerable.

They all looked at Flint for a few moments before one lofted over onto the branch Flint was on. Flint took a nervous step backwards, but the owl froze and spoke in a quiet tone, "Easy there young'un, I'm not going to hurt you a fine young Alba like you."

"Okay." Flint said nervously. The owl smiled in response and turned his head back to grab something out of a vole leather satchel he had strapped onto his back. Still feeling worried, Flint asked a question, "What's an _Alba_?" He said slightly mispronouncing the last word.

The owl in front of Flint turned his head back around with a large piece of dried meat in his beak, taking it with a set of his talons so he could speak. "Why, Alba is just another name for Barn owl. You see..." The owl smiled slightly and looked about at his comrades, "Barn owls are the most pure species of owl, and all Tytos are Barn owls in some extent or another. But Albas are the most pure of the Barn owls because they are the most direct descendants of the first owl, Hoole."

"Oh." Flint said. "But I thought Hoole was a Spotted owl. My mum and da once told me about some owls that live on an island and-"

The owl took the tip of his wing and touched it to Flint's beak telling him to be quiet. Taking off his helmet, the owl's face was revealed and Flint managed to place the owl as being another Barn owl. In a serious, but slightly bemusedly pleasant tone, the owl spoke, "No, young'un." He smiled slightly, amused at Flint's youthful ignorance, "That is the second Hoole, an abomination to owl kind that those owls have raised up as a deity. You must never trust those owls you speak of."

"Oh." Flint said again, his gaze drifting down to the piece of meat that the owl was holding.

"Sorry. I forgot about that." The owl said, giving Flint the piece of meat. As the hungry little owlet gulped down the small bit of food, the owl said. "There will be plenty of time for you to learn such things later. For now, I bet you are starving. What do you want us to catch you?"

Flint, having already gulped down the small morsel of food excitedly looked at the Barn owl. "You'd get me something to eat? As in anything?"

"Sure we were about to top off our food supplies anyway. And yes, we will try to catch you whatever you want."

"So long as it isn't a bobcat or something like that." Another owl chimed in jokingly.

Flint smiled and laughed for the first time. "Can you get me a hummingbird?"

"Sure, young'un, I'll get you a hummingbird." The owl said, he then turned his head to look at the first owl that had landed. "Private, stay here while we go hunt for a few minutes."

"Affirmative sir." She replied.

So the owl and four others lifted off, leaving Flint alone with the other owl.

"Hi, young'un." She said softly.

Flint looked uneasily at her as she lofted onto his branch. "Hello." He said nervously.

Walking up to him, the owl asked, "So tell me, what's your name?"

"Flint." He said, shifting nervously.

"Oh, okay, I see. Flint." She replied, "I am Urike"

"Uri..." Flint trailed off, unable to pronounce the name right the first time.

"Like this," Urike exaggeratedly pronounced her name, "Ool-ree-keh"

"Urike." Flint said successfully this time.

She nodded, and Flint managed to smile slightly.

"Your so cute when you do that." Urike commented, smiling also in the process.

"When I do what?" Flint asked, not sure if he liked being called cute, but he did at least enjoy the attention associated with being cute.

"When you smile, young'un."

"Oh." Flint said yet another time. It seemed to be a word that was dominating his speech today.

He did not bother to say anything else or to even bother pursuing further interaction. Instead, he opted to let his gaze drift perpendicular to the branch he was sitting on, away from Urike, and just fall back into a haze of missing his parents.

A few moments later, Flint felt something warm envelope him as Urike edged in close to him and put her wing around his small body. He just sat there for a moment, but then he leaned in and pressed the side of his head against her side and listened to her heartbeat and breathing. Urike in response pulled her wing tighter around Flint and she began preening some of his down.

They sat like this for a few minutes before Flint spoke up. "You remind me of my Mum." For one brief moment, Flint could hear her heartbeat quicken and her muscles tense.

Several moments passed and then Urike sighed and looked out off the branch with Flint as she spoke, "Now promise me you won't tell anyone this." She paused for a moment, but before Flint could reply she started talking again, almost as if she were not talking to Flint but rather to herself. "Sometimes I want chicks of my own." She gave a small, quiet laugh and let her eyes fall downward, "Sometimes I wish I could just find that one perfect male that's meant for me and I for him and that we could have chicks, grow old and see them mature..." She trailed off into several moments of silence. She then smiled and looked at Flint, "Now's one of those times... So I guess that even though I don't have a son of my own, you remind me of what I picture him to be."

She hugged Flint tighter and for this brief moment, everything in the world felt right for the poor, abandoned chick. However, Urike sighed moments after and her voice fell downcast like her eyes. "But I'm just a dirty old Sooty..." She pulled away, taking her warmth and compassion with her. "I can't even be seen touching an Alba most Pure."

In a half fit, she stormed down the branch cursing herself. "Racdrops on you, Urike... On frink this frinkin' deal..."

"Urike?" Flint asked, worried and upset that his brief moment of happiness had ended.

She sighed, turned, and looked at Flint.

He was so young, so innocent, and for one brief moment, she felt as if he was hers. That one brief moment of sentiment uprooted an entire lifetime and doctrine and, for one instant, she felt so evil for participating in the destruction of so many families of owls while she herself longed to have a family she would not be allowed to have because of her lowly rank.

She just could not stand to see one more innocent chick that was held dear in the eyes of its mother be turned into a weapon. Turning and looking at Flint, her scroomsaw poured forth and she did something she was never supposed to do.

"Young'un, listen to me. I am about to break everything I have ever been told to do." She walked forward and stooped down to Flint's eye level, putting her wings on both sides of him almost as if she were holding him. "When my comrades, my friends, come back, don't believe what they are going to tell you. Remember your life before the moment we found you, do not let that ever be taken from you. Don't let them ruin you like I've seen them do to so many, like I've seen them do to me. Be compliant with them, make them think you are doing and thinking what they are telling you to do and think, but never let these owls influence your mind like they have done mine. And the first chance you get, bolt, fly for your life and get away. Understand?" Flint nodded and she smiled, but her eyes conveyed incredible sadness, "And Flint, have a wonderful family for me, okay?"

She pulled away again and edged down the branch. "I can't talk to you anymore." She said flatly, concealing her inner turmoil very poorly.

Timidly stepping towards her, Flint sensed that there was something very bad going on, but he did not know anything beyond that. "But Urike, why?... I just want-" He was cut off.

"Young'un, I can't get attached to you. So please, don't talk to me, don't come closer." She said in a pleading tone.

Flint ignored her, running up and grabbing onto her with his wings, trying desperately to cling on to the last thread of his parents that he knew existed.

In a flash of reflected light from metal streaking across Flint's field of vision, Urike pulled away further and struck him with a blunt part of her battleclaws. It did not hurt terribly badly, but her message was sent clearly. In a cold, deadly tone, she glared down at him and spat out one last sentence. "Don't tell anyone about anything that happened between us, and get into the hollow, NOW!"

In emotional shock, Flint quickly retreated into his old hollow. Urike, on the other hand, quickly lofted back onto her previous perch and slowly began contemplating her life.

She knew this feeling of guilt would pass as all others had before, and for that very thing she felt further guilt. But indeed, as with all the things she had done, the guilt will pass, and most likely it shall do so rather quickly. Yet, oftentimes while having nothing to keep the mind busy, these feelings of guilt will return and often in much greater strength than their original appearance. That is what being a soldier entails, and that is the very thing that she never wants to see Flint be forced to cope with.


	10. Imprisoned

A temporary base camp had been set up above a fifty foot cliff on an elevated ridge line. At the location, the owls who had established the camp had perfect cover by hiding under the dense canopy and in the thick brush extending up from the ground. The high vantage point also provided a factor for an excellent location for headquarters because the height allowed lookouts to scan half the horizon for approaching owls without even leaving his concealment in the underbrush.

Now, being of a higher order, the Barn owl officer had claimed the sole tree with a hollow as his 'command center', leaving his subordinates to roost on the outside of the trees. Lining the edge of the cliff but still remaining concealed in the brush were about a dozen cube shaped wooden cages, all but one of which contained captured owls. In one particularly small cage was a small, black owlet. Next to her was a single large cage with both of her parents in it.

Stellaris had just awakened and was looking at the evening star near the horizon. The sight, though seen through imprisoning bars, was strikingly beautiful. Although surrounded on three sides heavy brush that obscured sight beyond more than a few yards in many places, the fourth side dropped off with the cliff, revealing a sprawling forest extending for many miles. Stellaris, turned her head around and looked at her sleeping parents. "Mum, Da," she had a mix of awe and depression in her voice, "Isn't that beautiful?"

Windy gently ruffled her feathers, opened her eyes and looked at her daughter. "What is dear?"

"The view, Mum. I feel like I am flying when I look out over the forest." Stellaris replied.

"Yes it is beautiful." Mercury replied, opening his eyes as well. He sighed and looked at his daughter, worrying that she will never fly as a free owl

Just then, the Barn owl commander landed in front of the occupied cages which were clustered together in a group. Besides the cages holding Mercury, Windy, and their chick, was a large cage holding a female Lesser Sooty, a medium cage holding a young barn owl with a defiant look on her face, two Grass Owls in two separate cages, two cages holding a split up family of Barn owls, and four cages holding assorted species of Tyto and even some non-Tytos as well.

The squadron commander slammed a set of his battle claw clad talons on an occupied cage, making a loud racket that awakened any sleepers. The owl then stepped back from the cages, apparently so he could be seen by all the captives. Clearing his throat, he began to speak in a low, loud voice, "Brethren, Sistren, Fellow Tytos," By this point, the caged owls were all looking at the speaker, "Today, you have been liberated from ignorance; ignorance of your purity, and ignorance of the evil called Ga'Hoole you have doubtlessly heard of." Several owls looked at each other perplexed while the owl took a moment to pause.

He continued in a loud and thrumming voice. "I know the question on your beak is 'How have we been liberated if we are imprisoned in these cages?', but I assure you that your... temporary restriction of movement is for your benefit. We, The Pure Ones, have received a bad reputation over the past several years. But believe me, with us, you will find a new level of freedom and knowledge as we, your family, help you develop your physical abilities. Those of you who are enlightened, and wish to fly at our sides tonight having accepted us as brothers..." The owl stopped and looked each of the owls of the eye before continuing, "You, my brothers and sisters, step forwards and say so, and you shall fly free with us in our return to St. Aegolius tonight."

A moment passed, then another. But then, the young Barn Owl and one of the Grass Owls stepped forward in their cages.

"I am willing to serve my part, I have wanted to serve in your ranks since I was a chick, but you found me first." said the Barn owl.

Silence followed as the owl who had spoken received deadly glares from every imprisoned owl. Ignoring this, the commander of this contingent of Pure Ones spread his wings wide and grinned widely as he walked over to the owl. When he reached the cage, he stuck a wing in and touched the Barn owl and said in a amorously pleased voice, "It brings joy to my gizzard to see such wisdom in a young owl."

Mercury scowled, "A fools wisdom is seen as wisdom to fools."

Windy nearly jumped out of her feathers to try to silence her mate. Incredulous, Windy quietly whispered to him, "What are you doing? They'll kill you, and maybe me and Stellaris as well."

Simply shaking his head, Mercury replied, "And would that be worse than being forced to serve them again?"

"Yes it would, Mercury, so long as we are together, and we are alive, there's hope." Windy said, trying to force her optimism upon not only her mate, but herself as well. If she could just believe there was a chance... maybe she could make it through this terrible situation.

"Windy." Mercury said heartfully, "They are going to split us up, and we'll never see each other again. You know that is going to be what happens."

Mercury was right, for indeed, Windy knew that was the very reason she was trying to be so optimistic, so she could hide the coming truth from herself as long as possible.

She simply said nothing in response and acknowledged that Mercury was right.

Meanwhile, the commander had opened the locks on the so called _wise_ _owls_' cages as if Mercury had never spoken. As the converts were stepping out, the officer approached Mercury and spoke in a loathing filled voice, "As for you... I should have all three of you beaten for daring to speak against me in such a way." He paused for a moment and his voice shifted to something almost akin to regret, "But I can't risk you not being able to fly back to St. Aegoleous tonight." The owl then grinned devilishly, "Besides, you two seem to match the descriptions of two hireclaws that had deserted our ranks after receiving payment but without fighting. And judging by this little rarity... I think I understand." The owl trailed off and cast a greedy look at Stellaris. Reaching into her cage and grabbing her tightly by the chin, he forced her to turn her head about so he could observe better her plumage and signs of age.

Stellaris struggled to rear away, but the Barn owl's grip was too tight.

"Let her go!" Mercury said with great contempt.

The owl, spiting Mercury, pulled his talons out of the cage without releasing, pulling Stellaris head first into the wooden bars.

The owl cast a despicable smile at Mercury and Windy. "Happy now?" He asked sardonically.

A deadly fire was burning in Mercury's eyes... If only that owl were to take one step closer so he could reach through the cage...

The owl continued on. "Don't worry about the debts you owe us for not fighting, I think she will cover those just fine. She'll receive the best military training and make a fine soldier." The owl made a mocking eye contact with Mercury, "Why, she'll probably become one of our flagship officers. She might even become our Purity's highest ranking officer, because you know that a black Barn owl would be a tremendous rally to our troops. Remember the old tales of Tao?"

Mercury glared deathly at the owl. "I know them, yes."

The other owl gave a cynical churr. "Oh, I doubt an owl of your lowly intelligence would actually know the Tales of Tao."

_"Just one more step..."_ Mercury said to himself as the owl edged closer to his reach.

The owl continued, "You see, long ago this owl was hatched during the early years of the Pure Ones, so early in fact that he himself knew our first High Tyto and served as his tactical adviser. It is said that he was the most ruthless owl to have ever lived when it came to dealing with Non-Tytos. He was the one who first took full advantage of the knowledge that they are lower owls, and it was he that helped lead our glorious empire to rival the power of the accursed Ga'Hoolian kingdom."

"And did he not abandon the Pure Ones the day prior to a crucial battle, leaving you to be slaughtered like how you deserve? Some say he turned feather to serve his true master, a hagsfiend, the most impure creature of them all."

The owl cast an egotistical, knowing glare at Mercury. "That's why I said you don't know the tales; you obviously have it wrong." His face fell cold. "I am sure we can make your daughter into everything Tao once was. She will serve us well."

With those last words, the owl took one step backwards and turned around; Mercury was not going to get the chance to strangle the owl that he was hoping for. Greatly angered, he watched as the owl who had been tormenting him so terribly by threatening his daughter simply flew away out of his reach.

* * *

><p>The trees below Flint were passing at an incredible rate; he had never felt this incredible sensation before as we was carried in flight, clutched gently in the talons of one of the owls who had found him.<p>

The feeling was so freeing, so incredible. He couldn't wait to fledge and fly. But more incredible still was how much better he was feeling. Yes, he was still broken by his parents' abandoning him, and he indeed missed them greatly, but the way these owls accepted him was incredible. For the entire time that these owls were resting from their journey, Flint was the center of attention. They would talk with him, tell him stories about brave Tytos of times past who had changed the course of history, give him bits of their food when he got hungry even after eating two hummingbirds... The entire experience was incredible, and Flint was jubilant when they told them he was going to be taken with them.

He had been told that they were taking him first to an assembly of other owls like them in this area, then, once they had met up, they all would return to their homes in some place called St. Aegoleous. They told him that they as a whole valued physical strength and discipline built upon a strong sense of unity within the group. If he were to show his ambitions and strengths, they said, he shall certainly go far in their military.

Mercury had often told Flint about stories of battles from the Northern Kingdoms, how there had been a century long war wherein, though many owl were killed, many owls also found honor and strength on the battlefield. A few of the stories centered around how owls of lowly birth could earn their way through the ranks of the military and could even gain honorary acceptance into the royal bloodlines as reward for deeds of great nobility.

These thoughts excited Flint because this was similar in many respects to what these owls appeared to be telling him about their empire.

"We're nearing our destination." One of the owls, presumably the navigator, said aloud addressing the entire formation.

"Understood. I can see it ahead." Ulrike, flying point, acknowledged.

"What is it?" Flint asked the owl that was carrying him.

The owl quickly replied, "Our camp."

Flint looked forward unable to see what was being talked about. "I can't see it."

"That's the point." The owl replied flatly.

The only thing of notable interest that Flint saw ahead was a ridge line on which was an exposed cliff face. The owls in the formation were approaching the structure rather quickly, and it was not until they were only a few hundred feet from it that Flint saw the first owls.

They were perched up in the canopy and were an assorted mix of Tytos. Down below, Flint noticed several owls contained in small wooden cages, though he neither had time to look closely at the owls as to recognize them, nor to realize that they were captive in the cages. In fact, Flint had never seen cages before, so he had no idea what they were and he made little note of them as he was quickly carried over them.

Gliding quickly beneath the canopy, the owl that was carrying him peeled away from the formation and flew for a handful dozen of yards before coming to a hoover over a clearing of the underbrush on the ground where about two dozen owls were scattered about.

"Okay youngun', I am going to put you down now."

Flint complied and was ready to land when the owl let go of him, letting him drop a few inches to the leaf covered ground.

The first thing Flint noticed was the strange feeling of standing on the leafy ground; the second thing he noticed were the owls that were assorted through the general area. The features of their faces and bodies were not quite the same as with those of adults, and many of them still had tuffs of down puffing off of their knecks, chests, and wings. They were fledglings and slightly older and those that could fly were hopping about the branches in the trees above and flying about, tussling and playing with their friends. Two of the fledged owlets, though, remained on the ground huddled close together and looked almost lethargic, or perhaps it should be said they looked emotionally drained. One of the owlets that caught Flint's eye had a rather large blood stain on his chest and the feathers around his beak. He looked so sad, but Flint could not figure out why; it appeared he had just enjoyed a meal consisting of some large item of prey.

All these fledglings had willingly joined the ranks of this regime and as such were given a fair amount of freedom because of the blood price they had paid to enter in. This was unbeknownst to Flint at this time.

The owl that was carrying Flint landed next to him and looked down at the young owlet. "Maybe you can make some new friends with the other recruits." He moved in closer to Flint and, almost as if telling a secret, whispered into his ear slit. "Keep yourself pure, only associate with the Barn and Masked owls." Flint looked up at the owl with an expression of pure inquisition.

"What?" He asked, finally getting a good look at the owl and seeing that he was a Masked owl.

The owl gave Flint a quick glance, but a second owl, this one a Barn owl, landed nearby and broke both Flint's and the Masked owl's attention. "Why hello!" He said pleasantly, "I see you have brought me another Alba, an especially young one at that. We can never have too many of those."

Flint was upset at being referred to in the third person, but he did not protest as the Masked owl that had carried him stepped forward to greet the Barn owl. "Yes I have. My squadron found him abandoned in an old hollow... He kept rambling on how his sister fell from the nest and then his parents took her away and disappeared. Something like that anyway, you know how little ones ramble."

"Hmm..." the Barn owl made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat, "Yes, they do ramble. Too bad that he does not have any family left; they would make for a good TUPSI to help propel him up in the ranks. We need all the officers we can get since we assimilated St. Aegolious' owls into our ranks. Those dumb birds require a lot of supervision to fight well."

The Masked owl gave a snide grumble, "Seeing the lower owls in such a shape is one thing, but if you ask me, I say we should find Skench, pluck her, then throw her off the edge of a cliff for what she did to the Tytos."

"Agreed. Our medics have been trying for about two months to break the Barn owls from that hagsfiendish daze they are in, but the older ones who have been moonblinked their entire lives just don't seem capable of being freed..." The Barn owl trailed off.

Looking knowingly at the Barn owl, the Masked owl quietly asked, "You do know what is being done to the Tytos that are captured and are uncooperative, right?"

"That's different." Retorted the Barn owl, "Those owls were given a choice but chose wrong. I do not see any problems in forcefully subverting Tytos that are disobedient to our perfect doctrine of Purity."

"Good point, and mind you that it is one that I agree upon."

"Yes..." The Barn owl said, trailing off. He then looked down at Flint. "Come on youngun'. You have a bright future with us."

The entirety of the last conversation simply flew over Flint's young head; leaving him with many questions but little courage to ask them. He simply followed the Barn owl as he was lead to a hollow underneath the stump of a tree. Inside were several unfledged owlets keeping warm off of each others' body heat by pressing together.

"You will be staying in here until it is time to leave camp at sunset." With that statement, the Barn owl that had lead Flint into the small hollow watched him enter warily into the cavity. Once Flint was in, he turned and flew off without saying a word.

Of the five owlets inside the hollow, most looked scared to some degree or another.

One of the owlets, near the same age as Flint, quietly spoke. "They don't let us leave."

"What do you mean?" Flint asked.

Another owlet spoke up. "When I tried to walk out of this hollow, an owl perched way up high flew down, landed in front of me, and pushed me back in."

Flint turned his head back around to look glancingly at the entrance, "Well, I don't have anywhere else I can go, so I guess it doesn't matter." Flint looked back at the owlets as the oldest one, a Lesser Sooty approached him slowly.

The nearly fledged owlet spoke. "What did they do to your parents? They took mine away three days ago and I have not seen them since."

Another owlet that was in the far corner of the hollow gave Flint a tearful look and began half crying, half talking, "Some owls had been talking with my older brother and sister for a while before now. They would come when my Mum and Da were out hunting, but then one night they came while they were still with us in our hollow. Mum and Da went out to see what was going on when the owls landed in a tree next to ours, and my brother and sister followed them. I heard several screams and ran over to see what the sound was. My brother and sister were fighting with Mum and Da in the air, then they all four fell out of sight. There were several more terrible screams and my brother and sister flew back up, but I never saw my parents." The owlet was crying now. "The owls then grabbed me and flew with me here. My brother and sister were flying with me, but they would not talk to me when I asked them what they had done to Mum and Da."

Flint felt himself tense as he felt a feeling in his gizzard that the two owls the owlet was talking about were the two who he had seen perched outside. "Are your brother and sister here now?"

The owlet nodded and worked her way towards the opening of the hollow. Once she had gotten to the opening, she pointed with a stubby wing at the two lethargic owls that Flint had spotted a minute earlier. With horror in her eyes, the owlet looked at Flint. "I'm scared about what they did to Mum and Da. My brother was covered in blood when he came back up to meet the owls, and so was my sister, but she had a lot less on her..." She trailed off for a moment and looked with terror at Flint. "I think they killed Mum and Da."

Flint was struck dumb by this owlet's story. "But the owls saved me. My mum and da took my sister and abandoned me two days ago. I was so hungry... then I was found by six of whoever these owls are. They were really nice and gave me a humming bird to eat. Then I came here with them."

"There is something wrong with these owls." The oldest owlet in the group said. Flint looked him. "There is something terribly wrong with this whole situation. We can't trust them."

"But they saved me." Flint replied innocently, "And they were so nice. I don't think they're that bad."

"What's your name?" The owlet asked Flint.

"Flint." He replied.

"Okay, now Flint, listen to me. These owls that we are talking about, I think they're called the Pure Ones, they would come and visit my da. Mum was always hunting when they came to the hollow, and often he met them away from our hollow when she was there, but I heard them talking. I always heard words like 'recruitment', 'voluntary enlistment', and 'tribute' whenever I listened in. I don't know what any of those words mean, but I don't like them. Da would always shout at me whenever I would mention his meeting with the owls that would come. Then three nights ago, the owls returned, this time when Mum was in the hollow with me and Da. They had something shiny on their talons -I think the shiny things were battleclaws. Anyway, the owls insisted that Mum and I come with them without trying to resist." He paused for a moment, clearly becoming overwhelmed with emotion. "Da said something like 'I hope giving you these two will prove my loyalty to you.' The last I saw of my da was him putting on a helmet that had been given to him. I was then carried by two of the three owls in some sort of sling that I think was supposed help carry injured owls. When we finally landed here, I saw a brief glimpse of my mum as she was being forced to fly away to somewhere else. I haven't seen my da or mum since."

Looking questioningly at the owlet, Flint simply was too young to infer the point that this owlet was trying to make by telling the story. A few moments passed and the owlet, with much annoyance and even anger, tried to clarify his statement for Flint. "Don't you get it?!" He screeched , "They took me from Mum and Da and have kept me and others like me trapped in here. What if they had done the same to you and your parents!?"

Flint was silent as the reality of the situation began to seep in. Timidly, he answered, "I would be upset... scared... angry..."

"That's my point." The owlet replied.

However, before the owlet could continue talking, the armed owl that was charged with guarding the owlets and ensuring their compliance landed in front of the hollow opening and peered in; a resultant silence filled the hollow.

Stepping in the owl was immense and threatening to the small eyes of the young owlets and his voice was equally terrifying. "I expect complete silence." The owl glared at Flint and the Lesser Sooty, "Speech, noise, or any communication is forbidden, and I promise you, the next one of you that makes the slightest sound _will_ be beaten as punishment for disobedience."

The owlets, including Flint, all cowered back away and nodded in complete conformity to the owl's harsh orders.

Casting one last threatening glare, the owl stepped back outside the hollow and flew up to his branch above.

Silence was the existence for Flint and the other owlets until approximately a half hour later. At that point, the Barn owl that had escorted Flint into the hollow landed outside, looked in at the owlets, and gave a loud announcement directed at them. "Time has come for you to return to your new home at St. Aegoleous. Please follow me quietly."

Waiting a couple of moments for the owlets to stand and work their way towards the hollow entrance, the Barn owl began walking towards the cliff that Flint had seen earlier.

The walk was far longer than any Flint had ever walked before, but altogether, the several hundred yard journey was not unbearable in any sense. Having never seen ground plants so close up, Flint was provided with his first opportunity to get a close look at them and, had the his situation been less traumatizing, he would have enjoyed the time on ground travel.

As the Barn owl lead them through the last thick region of brush between them and the cliff, the cages suddenly came into view, one of the closest being the cages holding Flint's parents.

Too stunned to react, Flint was verbally yeep, unable to say anything as he was lead closer to a small clearing near the cages. It was several moments after Flint saw his parents that they caught sight of him. Shocked beyond the ability to speak as well, a sickening terror filled the gizzards of the two parents as their gazes locked with Flint's.

Mercury and Windy's worst fears had been realized. Their entire family had been captured by the Pure Ones; their two precious chicks had fallen into the talons of owls who will destroy their lives and turn them into weapons. But for Flint **and **Stellaris to become soldiers of the Tytonic Union was far more unimaginable in terror than if any other owlets had been taken. Mercury could not let this happen under any circumstances. He may not be able to reach Stellaris as to deny her to the Pure Ones, but he may be given the chance to follow through on what he should have accomplished earlier.

_"If Flint manages to reach the cage..." _Mercury grimly thought,_ "Then I can only pray that I __have the strength to do what I could not do yesterday."_

Flint's walk coming to a complete halt, he stood still as the Barn owl that was leading him continued forward not seeing that he had fallen behind. The other owlets simply brushed passed him as if he were a rock, piece of wood, or even as if he did not exist.

Taking one hesitant step towards his parents, Flint broke completely from following the Barn owl and took several more steps towards his parents. Suddenly, he broke into a clumsy, galloping gate, running to the cage his parents were in. When he was halfway to his destination, his voice finally began working and he yelled out at the top of his lungs, "Mum! Da!"

The yell caught the attention of every owl within one-hundred yards including the owl that was leading the pack of owlets Flint was supposed to be a part of.

Frantic, the aforementioned Barn owl quickly and precisely directed the chicks to their destination and was about to lift off when the commander of the base camp, the same Barn owl that had tormented Mercury earlier, landed in front of him and spoke. "I'll handle this, a squadron just briefed me on this owlet's situation and I have an idea..."

Meanwhile, Flint had reached his parents and practically slammed into the cage as he desperately stuck his wings through to hug his parents who had forced themselves against the cage as well in attempt to just touch their son.

"Mum! Da!" Flint exclaimed. "I thought I would never see you again."All anger felt towards them had vanished; all resentment dissolved. Flint now only felt the basking radiance of his parents' presence. "What happened?"

Windy, bending down and lovingly bumping her head against Flint's through the bars of the cage, quietly uttered, "We were taken, Flint. We were taken away from you."

She lied, unable to tell Flint what had really transpired and not wanting to risk the question of why they had abandoned him to be raised. It was just too difficult for her to bear to tell Flint that she and her mate had indeed abandoned him.

Mercury at this time, though, was trying to force himself to carry through on what he knew very well he should do. But the tender scene of Windy reuniting with Flint, an owlet who **both** he and Windy still loved deeply, liquified his determination and rendered him unable to act. Even knowing what it meant to let Flint fall into the talons of the Pure Ones, Mercury could not force himself to deny the Pure Ones ownership of his son by killing him.

Sticking his wing through the cage to hug Flint one last time, Mercury knew that they as a family would soon be separated and would never see each other again. He could only hope that Flint and Stellaris' true potential in the Pure One's army would never be realized.

However it indeed was the case that this family would be separated, for at that very moment, the commander of this particular division of Pure Ones stepped behind Flint and spoke in his normal commanding tone. "I recommend that you do not listen to these owls."

Flint and his family gave little attention to the owl until he wedged himself between Flint and the cage and quickly pushed him away out of the reach of his parents.

"What?" Flint asked the owl.

The commander looked despisingly at Mercury and Windy. "These owls are liars and thieves-"

Mercury drowned out the owl's voice screeching. "Flint! Don't Listen to him!"

The owl gave out an odd call that Flint had never heard before and a Grass owl armed with battleclaws landed atop the cage Mercury and Windy were in. The division commander then glared at the two owls and in a sharp tone said, "I recommend you remain silent for now on unless spoken too." Turning his head to look at Flint, the owl continued in a neutral tone. "We found these two hireclaws by the river in possession of some battle gear that they had stolen after turning feather against us."

Flint was shocked to the core by this statement. Looking at his parents with a very hurt look, he spoke. "Mum? Da? What is he saying? Why were you at the river? You said that you were captured and did not abandon me. You aren't hireclaws, are you?"

Looking at their son, Mercury and Windy stammered for a moment. Finally, Mercury managed to speak coherently. "We were looking for herbs to treat your sister's cuts, we did not leave you."

The Barn owl, feigning a moment of insight, looked down at Flint with an equally feigned expression of realization. "Oh, so you're the owlet that was abandoned. Well, I feel I should let you know that these owls..." He pointed at Mercury and Windy with a wing, "...were captured late yesterday. If I was told right about what they did to you, were you not abandoned some time before early in the morning?"

Flint nodded.

Seeing this, the Barn owl asked, "Well, does it not strike you odd that they they would leave you behind that long without telling you. Why did they not return?"

"Yes." Flint replied cautiously. He then looked his parents in the eye.

Mercury and Windy were silent, unable to speak because they were cut to the bone by the way this owl was turning Flint against them.

The commander shot an egotistical glance at them. "Well, aren't you going to reply? Aren't you going to try to defend yourself in the eyes of your _supposedly_ _precious_ chick?" The owl exaggeratedly flexed the words 'supposedly precious' with a vicious sarcasm.

The only response was the sound of Windy quietly swallowing a pellet that was being forced back up by her clenching gizzard.

The division commander gave a slight snort of disgust. "I thought as much." Then, looking down at Flint, he continued in a gentle tone that appeals to young chicks while still supporting his statement with his ever present military hardness to emphasize the seriousness of the matter being discussed. "You can't trust anything your parents have ever told you because they have been lying to you your whole life. If you don't believe me, look into their eyes right now and see for yourself the pain they feel for having been caught in deceiving you."

Obeying without a word, Flint solemnly met his parents' gazes and simply observed them for a few moments. Eye contact was fleeting because both Mercury and Windy avoided locking eyes, but when Mercury finally and unquestionably broke the encounter by cringing and looking away, Flint had seen enough.

"Why did you do this to me?" Flint asked, his gizzard broken again.

Mercury quietly began mumbling, "I'm so sorry, Flint. I am so sorry. I love you so much... I'm so sorry."

The division commander furrowed his brow into a stern ruffle. "And why should he believe you?"

"Mum... Da... Why?" The timid voice asked sadly. This voice, though, did not belong to Flint; instead, it belonged to Stellaris who had been quietly observing the scene until this point.

This single question from this young owlet was more than the commander could have ever hoped for. Mercury and Windy's attention shifted quickly from their son to their daughter and to their terrible dismay, they saw that her expression was contorted into a mixture of worry, fear, confusion, and, worst of all, disappointment.

"Stellaris, no, not you too..." Windy mourned, trailing off into silence and stepping toward her daughter who was housed in a separate cage and out of reach.

"Why would you leave Flint? Why would you lie to me?" She asked.

Windy pressed up against the side of the cage closest to Stellaris and quietly tried to soothe her daughter. "Dear... Please, no. Don't ask these questions. Don't think like this. I wish I could tell you, but I can't."

Stellaris pulled away from her mother slightly. "Are you really hireclaws?"

"I assure you that they are." The commander answered, taking away Windy's chance to reply. "They fit every description of a pair that had cowered away from battle. They had not given our army the services that were payed for by two expensive sets of battleclaws and helmets that had been given to them."

Shaking her head, Stellaris declared firmly, "I don't trust you."

The commander replied with equal firmness. "You don't need to. Trust your own feelings and memories. They have not denied that they are hireclaws, and they did own two sets of battle gear that were well hidden away, so therefore it is only sensible to figure out that they could very well be hireclaws. And I am sure that being the _good_ parents that they are have told you and your brother many stories about battles and how despicable hireclaws and their ways are." The owl paused his scrupleless speaking long enough for Stellaris to grasp what he was saying. She was too young to understand some of the words and phrases, but she did understand fully the content of what he was saying. Once he saw questions begin to seep into her eyes, he struck hard with his logic. "One can only ask oneself it is safe to be around them."

Now trying to appeal to her daughter so she would not listen to this owl, Windy reached her wing out to attempt to touch her and she quietly pleaded, "Stellaris, don't listen to him. I'm your mum. I love you so very much. I will never hurt you. Please listen to me and not him."

As Windy stretched herself to touch her daughter 's cheek with the very tip of her wing, Stellaris pulled slightly farther away out of Windy's reach. No words could come for the mother as her mind swarmed in attempt to win back the trust that her daughter had lost in her.

Giving a faint smile, the Barn owl said to the two chicks, "It must make you angry to have been lied to your whole life by these two owls who are undeserving of the title of 'family' let alone 'parent'." The owl shook his head, looked down at Flint standing at his side, and addressed him. "Such anger is only natural and in no way is it wrong to feel. Why, I encourage you to feel it because a righteous hatred rooted in desire for revenge Purifies one's mind and body and sharpens your abilities."

Mercury and Windy had long ago run out of things to say and only now realized it. Then again, what is there to say when two parents see their beloved children turned against them in such a manner by an despicable owl with an equally despicable agenda? What is there that parents can even feel other than anguish when the last sight they catch of their son as he is lead away is a hate filled scowl directed at them? What is there to do when their daughter, a most serene and trusting creature that only moments before felt undying love for her parents, now is too afraid to be touched by them?

As Flint saw the last of his parents as he and the other chicks were lead to a new location away from the cages, he felt no sorrow for the anger and hatred he felt towards his parents, and he felt no remorse for showing such feelings to them.

As night began to fall, Flint contemplated how his entire world had been upturned and destroyed. For all essential purposes, he could have hatched today because he knew that whatever the following minutes, hours, and days might bring, he will be living a different life; everything he once knew was now gone. For better or for worse, he was now without his parents and sister, though he did feel a conflicting feeling of longing and desire for them in direct contrast for the anger that was churning in his gizzard.

When the sunset came, about ten owls landed around the owlets to carry them in slings to St. Aegoleous as the entire division, captives and all, returned to the Pure Ones main base after the extended month long recruitment mission.

Mercury and Windy's cage was opened along with Stellaris' cage; however, before Mercury or Windy could cling to Stellaris one last time to say farewell, they were prodded into flight with the other flight capable owls.

Looking back at their daughter who was destined to become a soldier in this terrible military regime, both of the parents wished sorely that they had thrown her from the nest like the few other black Barn owls who have managed to hatch. It was the only ethical thing to have done, especially under these conditions.


	11. Canyonland Arrival

Cutting through a thick cloud of smoke that was enveloping the canyons, the rays of the rising sun cast a faint red hue upon the murky gray veil billowing from a nearby rogue smith's forge. Flint had never seen smoke before, nor had he even heard of it, so as he was transported in the sling with two other owlets, he anticipated the haze to be like mist which rises from the forest floor on warm, moist nights. Slightly to his worry, though, he found that the ethereal film that drifted unenergetically to the sky had a strong, choking scent to it. His eyes were watering slightly as the two owls that conveyed him dipped into the canyon beneath them and continued descending to the ground below.

Flint breathed a deep, rejuvenating breath once he had been carried free from smoke and the filmy grasp that it held on his lungs and eyes. It was not but a few more seconds before he and the other chicks were gently lowered to the ground in their hammock like slings. The thin slice of sky that Flint could see through the almost pouch like carrier split apart as the limp material was left free to flop to the ground when the owls that were carrying it let go.

In awe of the immensely behemoth structures of stone, clay, and dirt that were seemingly heaved by Glaux from ground to sky to where the two nearly met and merged into one, Flint simply stood amazed much as the other owlets around him were.

It was only because Flint was looking in every direction attempting to comprehend the scope of the canyons he had arrived in that he noticed a formation of owls that had been flying in front of the owls that had carried him. It was the formation that his parents had been flying in. He had seen it earlier, but really did not care to pay attention to it because he was so angry at his mother and father. Now though... Flint was reconsidered such feelings as he deeply missed and longed for them again.

Taking his first look around at the owlets that had been carried in other slings with him, Flint saw Stellaris. Paying attention to her for the first time after more or less ignoring her when he encountered his parents, Flint was first struck by how much bigger she had grown since he last saw her. She was well over half his size now.

He had once been angry at her because she was taken with Mercury and Windy when he was left behind like a discarded pellet, but now, Flint realized that she was innocent and played no role in the abandonment. So Flint tried to make his way over to her while several armed owls began to land around the cluster of owlets and herd them closer together.

"Hi Stellaris." Flint said lowly as he approached her.

"Flint!" she cooed, running up to him, embracing him, and snuggling under his downy wing. "I've missed you. Mum and Da left you behind and I was scared."

"I know they left me, Stellaris. But I'm here now." Trying to adjust himself to how much she had grown, Flint was also amazed at how her inflections and pronunciations had changed to reflect less of a young chick and more of an older owlet; though she still sounded very young even to Flint's youthful ears.

Several more owls landed during this time and approached the two owlets. In a neutral but yet still slightly commanding tone, a Barn owl ordered, "You have been accepted into the ranks of the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones. Line up side by side and prepare for your first inspection."

The following minute could best be described as organized disorder as the two dozen or so young owlets jostled about, only doing as they were told out of fear. By the end of the messy little endeavor, several of the owls that had carried the owlets to St. Aegoleous had to assist the young ones into standing in the right positions side by side. Flint and Stellaris had gotten separated during the disarray leaving Flint standing in the far end of the line and Stellaris near the median point.

Once the line had formed, a Masked owl gave the order for the owlets to be silent and to remain completely still. Two or three owlets who were young enough to be hatchlings were non-compliant simply out of youthful ignorance of the situation and complained, one saying, "Where's Mum and Da?"

"Silence!" The Masked owl bellowed, causing all the owlets to flinch back and then stiffen into a stone like posture and silence.

With this, the owls that had carried the owlets in the slings stepped away and stood in a flanking formation beside the Masked owl that had bellowed the order. Also, they flanked a second Masked owl, an old and weathered Barn owl with a very stern expression, and a terrifying looking Bay owl.

Those four owls clearly held some form of an authoritative position as seen by the subtle cues exchanged between them and the other owls. They projected an enormous sense of power and were frightfully intimidating. Very coldly, they scanned over the owlets with a piercing gaze that only served to increase the intimidation these owls already projected.

It was hidden to the owlets present, even to Flint and Stellaris, that these owls were intently curious about the black owlet and would let their gazes fall on her for a slightly longer share of time than the other owlets. But as unique as the owlet may be, addressing her differences was not an objective possessed by these owls. They were to ensure that this batch of young ones would be healthy and strong enough to be assigned to lower ranking corporals for training.

Finally, after about fifteen seconds of a gizzard racking silence, one owl, the elderly Barn owl, addressed one of the owls that was flanking him.

"Private, what is the ETA for the fledged ones?"

"There were several very young fliers that slowed us down fairly well. My squadron did not want to risk an encounter with crows while carrying the owlets unable to fly, so we doubled our pace and took a larger portion of the soldiers armed with battleclaws while leaving behind twenty armed owls with the fledglings to roost hidden in some outcroppings ten leagues back. They are only doing so long enough for our escort of about thirty owls to return and bolster the ranks so no crow mob would dare attack. Once the youngest ones have rested enough that they can finish the trip, they will get back into flight. You can expect them within the hour."

"Good, good." The Barn owl replied in a very firm and ridged voice. "I hope to be the first to see the new recruits."

"They are a fine group, sir." The owl replied, "This flight was just more than the youngest ones could handle, Lieutenant Commander Eric"

"I no longer hold that position. Remember that." Eric replied coldly. "I am old and have better things to do than fight."

"Yes sir."

Turning his gaze back to the owlets, the old officer, Eric, walked to the end of the line farthest from Flint and slowly began pacing down the length and piercing the owlets with a cold, analyzing glare. Following behind him were the other three owls.

Owlets would often subtly cower back as each owl paced in front of it. Some would not react beyond showing a worried look on their face, but Stellaris was completely oblivious to the intimidation factor as the owls paced neared her. Casually, she was watching them approach. However, the casualness was one way. The owls that were assessing some of the next generation of Pure Ones were casting deeply attentive and inquisitive looks at Stellaris. Some were disbelieving while others were hopeful and filled with curiosity at the peculiar little black Barn owlet.

Eric stepped past Stellaris a few steps and stopped so his comrades could gather in and look closely at the little oddity. Looking down at her, the retired officer ordered in a very hard tone, "Tell me owlet, do you have any siblings?"

Stellaris calmly nodded her head 'yes' in response, not understanding that retired old lieutenant was hoping she had a sibling that shared her melanistic coloration. Leaning out of the line so she could see her brother, she pointed at him.

"Very good." Eric replied, slightly disappointed to see that Flint did not share Stellaris' coloration.

Eric and the other officers continued their pace down the line without further event; however, Flint did notice that the retired lieutenant paused for just a moment to give him a slightly more than normal length visual inspection.

The owls paced by and, once the last had finished and was stepped away, the retired lieutenant gave a nod towards his fellow officers. "Go ahead and take these owlets to the designated burrow. I will assign them to their specific training squadron once I have checked my records. However, leave the black owlet and her brother with me."

Flint felt a jolt of adrenaline course through him when he and his sister were called out specifically. He had been feeling a mixture of anticipation and slight fearfulness for the future, but that one sentence pushed him into being outright scared.

He was trying to regain control of himself when the Masked owl grumbled bitterly, "You can keep the hagschick if you ask me. Impure whelp of an owl..."

Eric gave the Masked owl an icy glare. "I suggest you hold your tongue when desiring to say such things. She may be impure, but that should not blind you to her potential in our ranks."

_"Oh let's not start this argument again."_ The Masked owl griped under his breath. Not wanting to bring up a particular controversy that bordered on a blood feud when concerned with intensity of conflicting emotions, he yielded and gave a respectful nod accompanied with a "Yes sir."

The other Masked owl began to give orders that directed the owlets to begin walking away into a small crack in the canyon's wall that was revealed to be a very narrow branch splitting off of the canyon. It lead into the heart of the Pure Ones' main base where many different sectors of their regime, ranging from pellet collection and processing, to weapons depots, to food stores could be reached on foot in a relatively short time.

To Flint, the narrow canyon would seemingly enshroud one inside a prison of rock and cause indelible separation from the sky. It was hardly pleasant to think about and Flint was glad that was not being forced to be encaptured within the narrow stone chasm.

As the line was breaking apart so the owlets could follow the two Masked owls, Flint and Stellaris were ordered by the old Barn owl and the Bay owl to come to them.

Addressing Stellaris, Eric spoke as the two owlets slowly walked over to him. "When were you hatched?"

Stellaris gave her head a slight tilt when she looked at the old commander who had spoken to her. "Why are you doing this to us? Why are our parents not here?" Stellaris' voice was mellow and unassuming; she simply was too young to appreciate the severity of the situation.

The Bay owl glared down at Stellaris hard enough to make the young owlet take a nervous step back and show the first indications of fear that she had displayed since being deposited in the canyon. The aged lieutenant, in an authoritative, cold tone informed, "When asked a question, you are to provide the most accurate answer. You are _not _to reply with questions of your own. Now, when were you hatched?"

Not quite knowing how old she was, Stellaris could only use a word that described the moment she hatched. Wavering edgily in her stance, Stellaris' mind scrambled to find the word in question; however, for some reason, the word 'Eclipse' would not come, so she hastily blurted out, "The day where it was like night."

Shaking his head, the Bay owl grumbled in his rough, stony voice something about her being too old to have hatched then. His tone dropping into a more menacing crackle, the Bay owl rejected Stellaris' answer completely. "That is wrong. Tell me the night of your hatching."

Flint, now feeling many mixed feelings about the benevolence of these owls named the Pure Ones, was genuinely worried that the two owls standing in front of them might hurt Stellaris if they did not receive the answer they were looking for. Hurriedly, Flint spoke, "She is right. I watched her hatch during the time the sky was black. Right when the ring in the sky was perfectly round, her eggshell cracked open."

Eric turned to the Bay owl. "Nasher, it looks as if this is the best answer we will get from them. What they say about the hatching does match the other the few hatchings of black Barn owls that I have heard of." His voice then fell to a quiet murmur, "It's a wonder she was not killed by her parents out of fear like all other black Barn owls to this date."

Nasher simply stood motionless looking at Stellaris, only speaking after a few moments of silence. "If we manage to convince the Union to accept her, and assuming she has any kind of talent, she could make a fine flagship officer."

Looking back at the black Barn owl, Eric replied. "Yes, but getting her widely accepted will be the real battle..." Eric paused, "She is impure, after all."

"Yes." Nasher replied hardly. "However, whatever difficulty we might have with getting her accepted will be well worth the benefit of having her. I would like to take her and train her myself."

"Very well then." Eric replied. "And I suppose it would not hurt if you were to keep a special eye on her brother, just in case he warrants any special attention."

Nasher nodded in agreement and his expression shifted hinting that he had changed his mind about something. "I have little use for a chick that is too young to train to fight. You should raise her for me so she will not get in my way."

For the first time, Eric showed signs of actually having emotions when he vehemently glared at Nasher and bellowed. "Now hrar me! I will not accept this responsibility."

The Bay owl cackled a harsh, stony churr as he lifted off, ignoring Eric's obvious issues with taking in an unwanted owlet.

Sighing, Eric cast a weary glance at the two siblings. A moment passed and he spoke to himself. "It looks as if I will have to find something to do with these two."

Flint was altogether not too pleased with being spoken of in the third person in such a manner, and Stellaris was about the same. Eric was well aware of this; however, he knew very well that they would get over their qualms and most likely eventually forget about it. Knowing this, he ignored whatever they may have to say. Instead, he gave them a curt, short order. "Follow me."

Giving each other a worried glance, the two siblings did not know what else to do other than to follow the owl. Immediately, Flint noticed that Eric was leading them into the very narrow canyon that split off of the much wider and spacious canyon. It was no wider than two widths of a full grown owl in many places, and above, the narrow sliver of sky was choked from the heavens by the imposing rock.

The narrow pathway between the rock edifices was spacious enough to walk easily, but the sheer volume of heavy stone towering over Flint immediately sent him into a claustrophobic panic as he entered the cramped branch of the canyon.

"That rock above us isn't going to fall on us? Is it?" Flint asked Eric in a nervous, wavering voice while glancing at Stellaris to make sure she wasn't afraid. Her face was neutral and she seemed to be fairing better than he was.

Hearing Flint's question, the old commander turned his head and gave Flint a cold glare. When he spoke, Flint sensed that the rock was softer and more giving than this owl. "I assure you," Eric's voice was hard and icy, "A hollow in a tree is far more dangerous than even the most unstable rocks in our territory."

Flint realized how juvenile and dumb Eric saw his question to be and was terribly embarrassed. He withdrew his posture into that of a bashful, scared owlet for the rest of the walk.

It seemed the walk took over thirty minutes and Flint never lost all of his feelings of claustrophobia. At one point when they had been walking uphill for a fair amount of time, Flint noticed that Stellaris was having trouble keeping up and he himself was quite weary as well. When he was about to speak up and voice how tired he and Stellaris were, they turned a corner and Flint saw that the path joined onto a large canyon.

Where the branch joined onto the canyon, it connected midway up the wall on a wide ledge that was about a quarter of the width of the canyon in some places, while in other places it narrowed into about two wingspans. From where Flint was standing, he could see what appeared to be a small cave. The sky was still dark with the twilight of morning, so the faint light that was illuminating from the small cave was accentuated by the surrounding darkness.

Looking toward the cave whose opening which was a wingspan wide and an owl's height tall, the old owl motioned towards it and spoke. "You are tired, but we do not have much farther to go."

Hearing what the owl said and not wanting to risk looking dumb again, Flint said nothing about how tired he and his sister were and followed Eric wordlessly.

When they arrived at the cave's opening, Flint saw that was more of a den than a cave. It was a single cavity that was not connected to a system of tunnels, and the corner that was farthermost from the opening was approximately five wingspans away. Inside, the primary object of interest was a large, circular object made of metal. Concave so it could hold materials to burn, it was a type of fire pit that had a generous helping of ash and flammable material inside. Inside was kindled a small flicker of fire - an entity that Flint had never seen before. Scattered about the hollow were books and papers carefully organized on wooden racks, quills and a metal bottle of black ink, and a wooden lectern with a well placed perch that allowed for easy writing.

Walking over to the lectern, Eric picked out a piece of paper that was on a wooden shelf and placed it on the lectern. Looking up at the two owlets that had warily entered into the hollow, he made an agitated voice in the back of his throat. "Do not touch anything."

Stellaris pressed up against Flint. Flint in return wrapped his downy wing around her and looked down gently at her. "We'll be okay, sis. We'll be okay."

She looked up at her brother and replied in an informed tone. "I know Flint, I know."

For a moment, Flint did not know if she was just agreeing with him or if she indeed did know for certain that they were safe. Flint certainly did not know what the next hours were going hold and he only said what he did to try to comfort his sister.

They were standing not too far from the fire pit and Flint could get a good look at the flickers of fire that were lapping away at the glowing remnants of charred wood. He had never seen fire before, but he knew what it was because his mother had once described it to him in great detail.

He stood motionless, hugging his sister and staring deeply into the miniscule flames that were clinging to life.

Their motions were so capturing, so inspiring, so intriguing. It was almost like observing the shifting clouds in the night's sky, but much more enrapturing.

But other things in the den were interesting as well, and Flint's attention was caught by the books on a shelf against one of the walls. One of the books was leaning up against a number of others and was acting as a bookend. The engraved title "Tactics and Strategies of the Northern Owls" on the front cover was showing, and Flint was trying to read what it said. He know the following words: tactics, and, of, the, owls. However, the words 'Strategies' and 'Northern' were giving him some difficulties. Out of curiosity, he stepped over to investigate the book.

Meanwhile, Eric was skimming though a sheet of training squadrons looking for an owl that he could trust to take care of the two owlets and train them until they were old enough to be useful. Being personally in charge of the bookkeeping associated with assigning owls and owlets to their respected locations, Eric had the ability to send these two owlets into the care of whatever corporal in charge of a training squadron that he pleased. However, the only ones that he trusted to be competent enough to raise the two chicks dealt with fledged owlets only.

So, the old commander was sorting through his entire list, hoping that he would see a name that would jump out at him.

Sighing, Eric wished sorely that he was not one of only three owls in the entire Union that could read. It should be noted that he was not wishing he could not read, but rather that a much larger percentage of the Pure Ones were literate.

However, because of his rather unique abilities to understand written language, the burden of many menial bookkeeping tasks were placed on his wings. Fortunately, he had two close acquaintances that could read that helped take the burden off his wings so he could do more important things - such as start dissecting the knowledge stored in St. Aegoleous' library.

Nyra herself had tasked him and the other two literate owls to begin reading the contents of the library. Eric, being one of the leading experts on magnetism and one of the few Pure Ones that regularly dealt with fire and occasional blacksmithing, took the order with relative glee, though this hardened old owl would never let anyone see him break the slightest smile. To this point, he had found a few copies of books on magnetism which had more than doubled his knowledge on the subject.

Quietly he mused what a textbook on Higher Magnetism written by the long extinct Others would contain. They always seemed to have a knack for finding useful information. Sadly, whole copies of their works were nonexistent, and scraps of their knowledge, being exceedingly rare, are worth one hundred times their weight in the finest metals because of the sheer volume of exotic knowledge they contain.

But for all he knew, there was a Othren textbook in that library and he was just yet to find it. After all, three owls can only sort through a so much information.

"_Three owls." _He grumbled to himself and then snorted. "_Peh, I would say that at least a tenth to a quarter of the Union can read."_

Eric was most likely right. Knowledge of an academic nature was often associated with their enemies the Guardians and would inevitably be seen as treasonous. Though not technically seen as this in the official standards, many Pure Ones hid whatever academic knowledge they knew out of fear of how their comrades would react.

Having found nothing of use, Eric decided that the fire needed to be fed, lest it go out. And he really did not want to bother himself with igniting a new one from the fires of a hired smith, so he should take care of it before it dies out completely.

Looking up from the chart, Eric saw Flint looking at the military strategy book. He had left it propped up against the other books but had opened the cover and was reading the first page.

Eric bristled his feathers and calmly walked over to Flint in his normal military demeanor. It was not until he was standing behind Flint that the young owlet noticed him.

Flint jumped and turned around, startled by Eric. Quietly, he stood in fear as the owl stood over him with a condescending expression.

"I told you not to touch _anything_." His voice was utterly calm, but it held such a sharp edge that the words seemed to sheer the very feathers off of Flint as they hit him.

Gulping, Flint's voice quivered as he spoke, "I... I just saw the name... and I was curious and wanted to read it..."

Eric's expression became neutral as so did his voice. "What do you mean by, 'read it'?"

"I just... wanted to know what it said... so I opened it and started to try to read it..."

Flatly, and somewhat incredulously, Eric asked, "You can read?"

Flint nodded enthusiastically.

"Show me." Eric ordered in a flat tone again, taking down the book, placing it on the ground, and opening it to the first page where Flint could easily see it. "Read." He ordered again.

Nervously complying, Flint started reading from the very first line on the very first page.

Much to Eric's surprise, Flint's reading was excellent for his age. His reading was not good, per say, because he stumbled on many words and had to sound others out, and he flat out did not know meanings to other words. However, factoring in Flint's age, Eric was astonished by his ability.

It was at this time when Eric was watching Flint's face and beak very attentively as the young owlet read that Eric noticed something about Flint.

However, his attention was diverted away before he said anything. Two owls landed in front of the hollow, breaking Flint and Stellaris' attentions as well.

They were both Barn owls, one being a very young male that was barely old enough to fly, and the other was a very aged female with many healed over cuts, scratches, and scars. She was looking in at the two owlets and was the first to speak.

"Who are these owlets?" She asked, her curiosity peaking over Stellaris and her black plumage. "By Glaux, I never thought I would see a black Barn owl. Where did you find her?"

"They were brought in on our most recent recruitment patrol, and Nasher wished to raise the black owlet in hopes that she one day might fill the role that Tao once did." Eric stifled the urge to excitedly tell his mate, Amelia, more about the chick. Instead, he opted to stay within his controlled demeanor and alert Amelia to what he just noticed about Flint. "But that is arbitrary in light of something I just noticed. Come here." He motioned with a wing.

Amelia complied and walked over out of curiosity. When she reached her mate's side, she looked with great perplexion down at Stellaris, expecting what Eric noticed to be related to her. However, Eric shook his head and motioned towards Flint. "It's him I am speaking of. Look at his face." He reached down and grabbed Flint's head gently, but still forcefully enough that Flint through his protesting could not wrench free of the grip. Eric then cocked Flint's head at a certain angle, apparently to show Amelia something. "Look at the particular pattern of the feathers just around his facial disk. Do you see it?"

Piercing him with her gaze, Amelia mentally dissected Flint's physical appearance in an attempt to see what her mate had seen. Suddenly, a look of realization and amazement filtered across her face. "By Glaux's name..." She uttered quietly. She then shook her head subtly and her look hardened. "No. It's impossible."

Eric was insulted by Amelia's response. "But you see it, right? You see that it's more than just the pattern, but the way his face is shaped and the width of which his eyes are set, right?"

"Yes I do, but it can only be a coincidence. There is no way that..." She trailed off then asked, "Are you going to tell them, then?"

Shaking his head, Eric sighed. "There is too much doubt, and I do not want to risk being wrong."

"So it's agreed then? It is impossible?" Amelia replied.

"Yes." Eric replied, "It is impossible. However..." He trailed off and looked at Flint, "He can read and write quite well for his age. It would be a shame if those talents were to go untapped."

"What are you saying?" Amelia asked in a cautious tone.

"I of recent have been bemoaning that so few Pure Ones, meaning only two that I know of besides myself, read and write. Perhaps I could take on an underling, namely him, and teach him what I know."

Amelia seemed to be displeased with the idea. "You know better than I do that there are no provisions for such a thing in the rules and mandates set by the High Tyto."

"I know; however, I do believe there is a way around that. A way that I can ensure that he will remain close by often enough that I can teach him what I wish."

"I doubt that you can get away with assigning him to our hollow in the same way he would be assigned to a proper corporal for training... Oh no..." Amelia trailed off, only realizing near the end of her thought what Eric was implying. "No. I Refuse!"

Eric's tone was as cold and impartial as ever as he replied. "Take a few seconds for the shock of my suggestion to wear off and then consider what I am suggesting."

"No!" Amelia replied forcefully. Since the death of her son in combat, and then later her daughter, she was completely disenchanted with the thought of rearing another chick. Adoption was simply out of the question. "I don't care if the rules set by previous High Tytos are still in place; I will not take him in."

Although hating being talked about in the third person and having no say in whatever life altering events that were being planned for him, Flint could not get over the incredible levelheadedness of Eric whose tone had not yet raised in the slightest.

Taking his time to speak in attempt to give Amelia a short chance to cool off slightly, Eric tried to persuade her with logic. "I assure you that it would be an adoption only in name. You need have no interaction with him."

Coldly, she replied, "And that is the way I will have it then. I refuse to accept him. He is a liability and Felic is enough of one already."

"What do you mean?" Felic, the young male Barn owl, asked, speaking for the first time that Flint and Stellaris had observed.

Amelia realized that she had said something she should not have and she sighed. In a quiet and gentle tone that greatly contrasted how she had been speaking, she replied to Felic. "It is just that after your mother was killed, I have worried greatly for you. You are just nearly old enough to start areal combat training, and then shortly after you will be eligible for combat missions..." She trailed off. "I just don't think I can handle worrying for another owl, and I don't want to risk having to worry about the owlet Eric is talking about."

"Okay." Felic replied solemnly and said nothing else. He knew how hard it was for Amelia, his grandmother, to accept the death of his mother.

In very many ways, it was far more difficult for Amelia to accept the death of her daughter than it was for Felic to accept the death of his mother. He was only a hatchling, a few days old when both his parents were killed in a confrontation with their enemy.

Interestingly the Pure Ones, with their many militaristic and often brutalistic ways, celebrate the hatching of a fellow Tyto within their ranks with great fervor. Because, although not common, it also is not exceedingly rare for two Pure Ones to become mates. Such was the case with Eric and Amelia, and then later their daughter with a fine young Tyto.

Felic's parents met on the field of battle when they were assigned to the same battalion. After surviving the particular battle that they met in, they began to court, in the limited ways of love offered by the Pure Ones, that is. Within a few months, they were bound together as mates by their commanding officer.

Unlike nearly every kingdom of owls that celebrates life and peace on such an exalted occasion, the Pure Ones take a separate view on the bonding as two owls as mates. This can clearly be seen in the oaths that were taken by Felic's parents.

_Tonight in moonlight that on us is cast,_

_I give to you my heart and gizzard at last._

_I pray that my courage will be deserving,_

_Of your strength which to Purity is ever serving._

_And while of Purity, I speak of it's delicate grace,_

_I wish you to know that I am pristine as Tyto's pure race._

_And to you, this Purity I give,_

_So together, we forever joined may live._

_And with our union, for certain I know,_

_That my flank will be protected wherever I go._

_And to you, I promise, if at a battle we may be,_

_I shall not hesitate to die to save thee._

_But what greater force is there, than two warriors in love?_

_For together, they may destroy their enemies and rend heaven above._

_And even if our foes surround us with their evil fright,_

_Together we shall vanquish them with our terrible might._

_And at sun's rise, when victory has been fought and won,_

_I know that next to me, there will be the perfect Pure One._

_And together, slumbering with my beloved at my side,_

_I shall share your dreams of where over wars we shall preside._

After they were joined together, nature ran it's course - albeit after taking it's fair time - and Felic's egg was laid a year later. When graced with an egg, his parents were given their choice of non combat assignments so they would be able to hatch and raise their chick. Having been given such a choice, they chose a certain mission at the Mirror Lakes where Nyra herself, mate of the High Tyto, was a part of an attempt to siphon knowledge from their enemies, the Guardians.

The mission was to take place over a long interval, certainly long enough to hatch an egg, and the location was perfect - peaceful, plentiful prey, and breathtakingly beautiful. With Nyra her Purity, mate to the High Tyto, who too had laid an egg, involved with the mission, security was tight and multiple precautions would be taken to ensure that their enemies would not know that they were even there. It would be the perfect location to hatch an egg.

However, only a few days after Felic's hatching, disaster struck. The Pure Ones' plan had been discovered by the Guardians and Nyra's egg had been captured. In the ensuing chaos, a deadly forest broke out.

The entire Mirror Lakes garrison scrambled in an attempt to retrieve the captured egg, but the spreading forest fire was too great. In the end, Felic's parents were consumed by the flames during attempts to save Nyra's unhatched offspring.

After their deaths, Felic was taken to St. Aegoleous which had been captured by the main forces of the Pure Ones on the very same night. Once there, Eric and Amelia, his grandparents, raised him.

With this having only transpired just less than two months ago, Amelia was still heartbroken and could not bear the though of even seeing an owlet because she was reminded so painfully of her own two children that had been killed. But she knew the reasons that Eric had for wanting to keep the owlet, and he could be quite stubborn if he did not get his way.

Standing steadfast, she cast at her mate a controlled look that still showed tale tale signs of pain. "Because he might be of use to you, I will permit you to do what you ask. However, do not expect me to have anything to do with him."

"Thank you for understanding." Eric replied.

Amelia cast a scathing look at Flint, all but enthusiastic about letting Flint hollow up with them. In an edgy tone, she asked, "Of course, he will receive his standard training. Right?"

"He certainly shall, so it will be a challenge to balance his training with what I wish to teach him." Eric replied.

Amelia shifted her glance to Stellaris. "And what of this one?"

"Oh, her." Eric stated. "You needn't worry; Nasher has claim on her. I assure you that he will take her soon." Eric did not mention that Nasher had shown no interest in raising the chick, but Eric was going to have a talk with the owl sometime later today.

"Good." Amelia approved.

The sound of Stellaris' beating heart came to Flint's earslits. She was scared, and so was Flint. For some reason, earlier, when Nasher and Eric were debating about who would take them, it sounded as if they might be staying together. Now though, it seemed to be strongly opposite of that."

"Will... Will we get to see each other?" Stellaris hesitantly asked.

Amelia ignored the question and walked into the back area of the burrow; meanwhile, Eric gave an unreadable look at Stellaris. "Do not concern yourself with such questions. You shall see your brother if you see him." He paused a moment to signify a change in subject. "Now. You two are to go to sleep, and I assure you that you will want to do so. Tomorrow, you shall be inducted into the ranks and begin training."

"What do you mean?" Stellaris asked.

"Such questions are pointless. You shall see soon enough."

Eric then ushered the two chicks to the back of the burrow and showed them where they were to sleep. It was in a corner between a wooden book rack and the stone wall. There was no nest, let alone a downy lining to comfort the two owlets in sleep.

Stellaris nearly mentioned the lack of a comfortable place to sleep. Flint saw that she was about to speak and was just about to stop her when she clamped her beak. Apparently, she re-decided. Then again, for all Flint knew, she fell silent because she knew in advance that Flint was going to stop her.

Either way, the two owlets obeyed Eric and nestled down to sleep next to each other. As worried and scared for the future the two owlets may have been, they fell asleep.


	12. First Training

There was a sound that brought Flint to consciousness.

The floor beneath him was cool even through the insulation of his down and budging feathers, and he did not feel the warmth from his sister.

There was another sound , like something being moved.

Flint opened his eyes to see Eric pushing a stack of books next to his reading perch. Quill in talon, Eric perched back onto the stand and began writing something.

Suddenly, Flint noticed that Stellaris was not next to him and he quickly stood up, looking about the hollow for her.

The movement from the corner alerted Eric that Flint was awake and he looked over at the frantic little owlet. "Your sister has already been taken to Nasher."

The words fell heavily on Flint. "What!? But I didn't even..." he trailed off, his ability to speak withered by the unsympathetic glare Eric was casting on him.

"Goodbyes and farewells are pointless. You are no better or worse off now than if you had spoken to her when she was taken away."

Willing to contest the point, Flint did not agree with Eric. "I would feel better..." Flint sighed. "I already lost her once when Mum and Da left me. Will I see her again?"

"You lost her once before and it is quite clear you survived. You shall survive it again, except it will be easier. Besides. You should be glad that you will no longer have to be reminded of the reason your parents abandoned you."

"What do you mean?" Flint asked, trying to conceal his surprise. He had no inkling how Eric knew about his parents' abandoning of him.

"I see that you are unnerved that I know about the your back story." Eric stated knowingly.

Flint shook his head. "I just didn't expect you to know."

"Yes, well, the first thing that you should know about me is that I _always_ ensure that I know everything about a situation." Eric stiffened his pose into an even more firm and commanding posture while giving a bemused chuckle. In a stern and serious but still knowing tone, he continued. "Your sister is quite the little oddity and, as such, I was curious to learn more about her after you two fell asleep. I spoke with the commander of the recruitment mission and he told me about you. But more importantly, he took me to where your parents were detained."

"Are they okay? " Flint asked.

"Why should you be concerned about them?" Eric asked coldly. "They disowned you when they abandoned you. Quite clearly they are creatures you should not feel anything but anger and hatred towards."

_He is right,_ Flint agreed silently. He was still very upset at his parents.

"Nonetheless, I learned two or three curious things from them during the time I had to talk with them before they were executed."

The phrase struck Flint like a stone to the head. "Executed?!" Flint exclaimed incredulously and was rendered wordless.

Eric's tone was wholly impartial as he spoke. "Yes, executed. They abandoned the Union's ranks during a conflict. We do not tolerate cowardly hireclaws and their execution served to prove this point."

"But.. They..." Flint stuttered for words, unable to find them because he himself did not know what he wanted to say.

"Again, I repeat, why should you be concerned about them? They clearly did not want you. And let me tell you something..." Eric's face hardened and his voice dropped into a telling tone. "When I was speaking with them, they made it quite clear how much they loved your sister but not you. In fact I would go as far as to say that they hated you."

Flint's eyes were filling with tears and his beak began trembling. He remembered just yesterday the pure hatred he had felt for his parents, and even now, he could feel tremendous anger towards them. But still, accepting that they had been killed was too much; death seemed a penalty too great.

"When I was speaking with them; though, there were some questions raised as to why they abandoned you. Would you care to tell me?"

Not wanting to be seen crying, Flint tried to force the tears back and control his shaking. The distraught condition left Flint wishing to bury himself in his father's protecting embrace, but that desire only compounded the extreme feeling of loss that he felt.

There was no way that he was going to be able to answer Eric for quite a while, so he simply stood there crying, feeling weak and vulnerable.

Eric's patience, though, waited for Flint to regain the ability to speak through his tears. When the owlet appeared to finally be able to answer him, Eric asked the question again. "What caused your parents to abandon you?"

Fighting back the tears, Flint tried to answer. "I was with my parents... Some owls they knew came into the hollow and acted scared... I thought they were scared of my sister, but they were afraid of me, and they flew out... My mum and da' flew out after them to find out why they did that, and I edged out onto a branch to try to hear what they were saying... I could hear them in the distance, but I couldn't understand... Then, my sister bumped into me and I lost my balance and jostled the branch. She fell, but my parents thought I pushed her. They would not let me sleep in the hollow that night, and they spoke mean to me... and then the were gone in the morning..."

_Well, at least that is something._ Eric noted in his had wholly expected an incoherent babble like this from Flint, but he had hoped for more specific information. His parents kept clamped beaks the entire time he had been attempting to extract information from them. What little knowledge about Flint and Stellaris they divulged was very general and cryptic, hinting that they knew something of value about one or the other - perhaps both.

Such a bother... He was forced to return to speak with one of the officers just to get a few very basic questions about the family of owls answered.

Anyway, whatever knowledge they withheld might coincide with what he had noticed about Flint. He had never seen such strikingly similar physical characteristics in any owl before, and the more he meditated on what he saw, the more he realized how impossible it would be for the similarities to be a coincidence.

And having seen the parents and their physical traits and comparing them to Flint's, it could not be clearer. Their avoidance of speaking of Flint's hatching and what this owlet just stated about the owls being scared of him only sealed his hypothesis as fact.

It is a shame, though, that he could not extract any useful information whatsoever from the two parents and was forced to rely wholly on what an officer had observed of these owls just prior to leaving for St. Aegoleous last evening.

Nonetheless, perhaps with time he might be able to extract more information from the two owls. If only he could get the knowledge from them soon to confirm his hypothesis. He was sure that the High Tyto and Her Pureness would be elated to hear the particular tidbit of knowledge.

Even without the parents though, Eric was appeased that he had so effectively extracted what information he did from Flint through eliciting his confidence; though, it did seem clear that there was little to be gleamed from the chick as his parents had withheld from him any important facts.

_Maybe Nasher will have better luck with his sister._ Eric mused.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, Eric knew that it was near time for Flint to attend his first training session.

"I am sorry for your loss." He said in a feigned tone of sympathy, "But you must carry on with strength and not let any owls see you crying. Such a thing is weakness and will only serve to make your life difficult. I mention this because in the coming minutes, I shall escort you to your training squadron."

"Training squadron?" Flint asked. He did not like how that sounded, but he had no real idea what it meant.

"Yes." Eric replied. "You will be put under the command of a corporal. He or she shall begin teaching you the rudiments of living in the ranks of the Pure Ones and shall furthermore begin training you in the art of combat."

"I don't feel like it." Flint mumbled through more tears, his throat and chest tight from the traumatic news he had just been told. The news of his parents' deaths had effectively sapped him of any mentionable energy and he wanted to find some secluded place and bawl his gizzard out.

"Pointless." Eric retorted in a stony voice. "You shall do as you are told. Now you are to follow me."

Eric took several steps towards the den's exit and turned to look at Flint who had not yet moved. A few moments passed as Flint contemplated whether or not he wanted or even should follow. He had little choice though; he did not know what Eric would do if he were to blatantly disobey.

Flint slowly followed and Eric lead him back down the path they had trod the last morning. As the narrow canyon swallowed the sky above, Flint felt more alone than ever before.

They followed the same path as yesterday for a short time, but it was not too far into the winding, cramped canyon that Eric turned and began walking down an equally narrow branch. From there, Flint was lead through a series of other disorienting turns and twists.

After only a fifteen minute walk, Flint's sense of direction was scrambled and he was thoroughly confused about where he was. Then again, he was too emotionally distracted to pay much attention to the route taken.

Much to Flint's dismay, the several owls that they passed walking on the ground were glassy eyed and lifeless. This worried Flint, and he worried that what he was seeing was the end result of when an owl is trapped where the sky is so choked out.

Apparently Eric picked up on Flint's worried curiosity when the young owlet unconsciously paused for a moment while he looked into the hazy eyes of a passing owl.

"Those are the previous residents of this territory. All but a select few owls were brainwashed by a method called moonblinking, eliminating much of their sense of self and intelligence. Many are unable to fly and changing their patterns of behavior and daily routine would be difficult because they are strikingly dumb. Instead, we simply have taken advantage of the menial tasks that they perform and reap the benefit of a steady supply of flecks."

Flint cast a nervous glance at the owl as it turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. "What happened to the them? It is like they are there but... I don't know, but like their mind isn't there."

"I told you already." Eric said with a hint of annoyance. "Moonblinking results in a much less capable owl, though it does brainwash them into a very loyal follower. It dulls their wits, weakens their minds, destroys their personality, and all around converts them into weak, impressionable creatures."

"Oh." Flint replied with embarrassment topping his extremely mournful state of mind.

Continuing walking, Eric elaborated about another of Flint's questions. "As for flecks, they are small bits of metal with special properties that have a very powerful effect on owls. Primarily, they serve for military use and are very effective when implemented well."

"What do they do?" Flint asked his voice cracking because he was still trying - and failing - to choke back the urge to cry.

"I shall teach you soon enough. For now, do not mention the flecks directly around owls other than myself. They are a very sensitive topic."

The two continued walking a few more minutes before they arrived at their destination. It was a wide, spacious intersection where five of the narrow canyons met. The open space on the floor of the canyon was a more or less flat, circular area with an average radius of twenty or so adult Barn owl wing spans.

The oppressive claustrophobia that Flint had been muddling through lifted considerably as he and Eric entered into the open area. Just seeing such a large fraction of the sky was enough to clear his mind momentarily and give him a short break from the hysteria of having lost his parents.

Standing in the central region of the intersection was an assemble of about twenty Tyto owlets of varying ages and several adult Barn owls that were overseeing them.

Eric approached one of these owls and spoke. "Corporal Brynja, I have another owlet for you."

"Ja?" She replied and looked over at Eric. "Oh, Sir. What brings you here with an owlet?" The Barn owl spoke in an odd accent that Flint had not heard before.

"Administrative business." Eric stated in an even tone. "I personally wish to assign this owlet to a corporal of high standing where he might be looked after for a portion of the day while I attend my duties. You were once a member of the Ice Talon's military before they were defeated by the Northern Kingdoms during the last days of the war up there. I have utmost confidence in your ability to train strong fighters, even if Flint here does not get the chance to be taught by you because he is too young."

"Mit di erraghh frihl vintygg vuoyvin rhoumf." She growled in a tone most unpleasant and course, speaking to no one in particular. "Nuoy ghed ditnuoy di Krak, uot di vuoyvin."

"I am sorry, but it has been long since I have conversed in Krakish." Eric stated. "Would you care to refresh me?"

Glaring at Eric, Brynja's eyes were fiery with anger though it was clear that her rage was directed at other owls and not at Eric. "My anger burns deeply against them." She translated in a vehement, fierce tone, "We were the possessors of The Northern Kingdoms, not them." Finished with the translation, she gave a a low hiss that Barn owls often give when threatened or angry and expanded upon her thoughts. "Do not mention our defeat again."

In his normal cool tones, Eric calmly commented on Brynja's statement. "Your anger is understandable, but I suggest that you do not show your loyalties to be to anyone but the Union of Purity we serve now."

"My statement stands as is." She replied in a calmer tone.

"I suppose it does." Eric replied, knowing how strong her old loyalties lie. "But now if you can help me with this owlet?" He motioned towards Flint. "I require him to be put on a special schedule, perhaps transferred about under different corporals as the night progresses. I require his second half of the night to be open. Otherwise put him on a schedule where every second night, he would have the entire time open for what I wish to teach him."

"I suppose it might be possible." Brynja answered. "The bigger question is why you want this special _arrangement_." she stated, emphasizing the word 'arrangement'.

"A check of the enlistment rolls earlier told me there was an all but guaranteed chance that something can be arranged." Eric evaded the latter question, but then followed with an outright denial of information. "As for my motives, those are for me to have knowledge of, and me alone."

"Such a typical thing for you to say." Brynja gave a snide exhale. "I should let you know that I can't take on another owlet, but I will see what I can do with tagging him onto another group."

"Very well." Eric replied. "But could you not simply swap out one of your current owlets for him? I would much prefer if you would be the one that would look after him during this mandatory and unnecessary 'training'. I would not bother you otherwise, but I do not wish to push my luck further by exempting him from this in addition to taking him as an apprentice."

In a low tone, Brynja quietly but sharply expressed something that had upset her, "Remember though that this 'training' that you speak negatively of is needed for most of the owlets we get. What would we do with all the owlets taken from the kingdoms around us. Yes, some are assigned to some of those of us that are broody and wish to have a family, but that would only account for a small portion of the owlets. We have to somehow indoctrinate and win the loyalty of these chicks, not to mention simply raising them into fledglings."

"I did not forget this; however, I perhaps should have clearly stated that this was unnecessary in this particular case. Nonetheless, I still need Flint to be assigned to the schedule I need."

"Okay." Brynja sighed quietly. "Well... I suppose I could technically count him as your adopted chick so I could allocate him an additional hour of free time at the beginning and end of each night. You know, for 'parental bonding' as is common for owls in our ranks with chicks." She paused for a moment to think. "I will see what else I can do."

"Thank you." Eric replied and then looked down at Flint. In an authoritative tone, he ordered, "Flint, you are to obey every order that Brynja gives you. I have high hopes for you and your progression through the ranks, and I will not accept failure to obey orders."

Flint nodded submissively.

"Good." Eric then addressed Brynja again, "Remember, I wish for a large portion of the second half of the night to be open so I may personally dictate some of my knowledge to him. Find some scheduling that will permit me to do so."

With no parting pleasantries, Eric lifted into the air and flew away.

Brynja sighed again, but louder. "I really don't have to put up with this."

"What do you mean?" Flint asked.

Brynja ignored Flint's question and addressed the group of owlets that she was raising until they were ready to fly. "Remain here." She then caught the attention of a Masked owl that was awaiting his assigned owlets to arrive at this assembly area. "Dullmyre."

"Yes." He replied.

"Watch these owlets for a while for me, okay?"

He nodded.

Brynja then began walking away and ordered Flint to follow.

Obediently complying, Flint followed.

Leading Flint to a group of owlets standing against the rock wall of the canyon, Brynja made eye contact with the adult Barn owl that was managing the particular group.

"Stand over there with the other owlets while we talk." Brynja ordered Flint through the side of her beak.

The Barn owl obviously heard that Brynja was wishing to speak with him. "Corporal Brynja? Is there something going on?"

She shook her head and spoke, her accent still striking Flint odd as he listened in as he was walking glumly over to the other owlets. "No, that stubborn old bird Eric has requested, or should I say insisted, that this owlet receive special attention." The two discreetly stepped out of earshot for Flint and the other owlets.

There were several moments of silence between Flint and the other owlets as they all looked amongst themselves. Of the nine owlets, not including Flint, most looked scared and extremely sad.

It looks like Flint is not alone in his trials.

One of the owlets Flint recognized; it was the female that had been held in the hollow back in the Forest of Tyto and had told that her siblings had killed her parents. She was only three weeks old, or just under two weeks younger than Flint who was just under five weeks old.

She reminded him of his sister and he felt sympathy for her. So Flint walked over to her and looked down at her. "Hi." Flint said, "How are you?"

"Scared." She replied in a timid, wavering voice.

The young owlet said nothing else and there was silence among the owlets in the group for several moments. After a short delay, one owlet that was about Flint's age asked him a question. "How did you get here? How have they treated you?"

Flint paused, not necessarily wanting to talk about his parents for many reasons. "My Mum and Da abandoned me, but I was found by some of these owls. They fed me and took me here.." Flint paused momentarily. "I guess they've treated me okay..." He purposefully did not mention his parents' deaths. Saying it aloud, he thought, would only make it real to him again and make him start crying again. He was barely winning the battle against the tears as is.

A Grass owlet slightly older than Flint spoke up. He did not make eye contact and his voice was flat, almost like his will was broken. "I got hit pretty hard by our Da when I didn't do something he asked..." The owlet trailed off, and Flint could just barely see a very severe bruise around the owlet's shoulder underneath his down.

"I don't want to call him our 'father'. He isn't my Da!" An owlet forcefully stated.

"No... he isn't, Cyndermore." The bruised owlet replied, "He just said that it was what he wanted us to call him. He said that it might help us get over being away from our parents." His voice then came to life as he added the last sentence. "He actually gave me a piece of vole when I called him 'Da' the first time!"

"I miss Mum and Da." a Barn owlet Flint's age replied. "But I like him, and I like calling him Da because it is like he really is my Da. It does help..."

"Eilwyn! How could you say that? Your Da never hit you or yelled at you. And I know that my Da would never do that to me. My Mum once told me that he was the gentlest owl she knew." Cyndermore replied incredulously, but still being careful to keep quiet enough to not be heard by any owls in authoritative positions.

"But he always makes sure we get our rations, that we get to eat and even get a drink of water if we need it, and he doesn't yell at us if we do what he says. I don't think he is that bad." The bruised Grass owl added to the conversation.

"I like him." An owlet spoke up.

"And so do I." Her brother added. "He always is nice, and he even lets me and my sister go back to Mum and Da earlier than other corporals in charge of groups of owlets..." He trailed off as he and his sister received a deathly glare from several of the other owlets.

Perhaps there is irony to be found that the chicks of two Pure Ones would be outcasts in their own regime. Then again, they were different than the other chicks present because they were raised on a pedestal by their corporal, the owl who wanted the owlets to call him 'da', and that they also had their parents and would get to see and spend a considerable amount of time with them during the evenings when they awoke and the mornings when they went to roost.

Shaking his head and turning back to the bruised Grass owl and Eilwyn, Cyndermore repeated himself. "Your da never hit you, mine never hit me, and I bet the same as everyone else here, but you have to be careful what you do around our so called 'da', or else he'll knock you upside the head." Cyndermore then asked, "Why is there such a difference if he is supposed to be the same thing as our real fathers?"

"It is because your parents did not love you like I do." A voice came from behind Cyndermore, causing him to violently jump in a startled reflex. It was their corporal and supposed 'da' speaking. "They wanted you to be weaklings, but I want you to be the strongest Tytos you can be."

The owl then looked at Flint, then two other owlets. "We have four new members today, so why don't we all get to know them? Would you care to tell us your names?"

Flint thought the owl seemed friendly enough, so he spoke first, feeling strongly compelled to do so for some reason. "I'm Flint."

"Thank you Flint for speaking up so quickly." There was silence for several seconds as the corporal awaited the other two owlets to speak up. When they did not, his demeanor turned colder. "I gave you the chance to willingly tell me your name, but now I see that I will have to order you." His tone held a hard edge. "Tell me your names."

"Aves." One timidly replied.

"Triton." The other said.

"Eveline." The three week old owlet next to Flint said.

"Very good." The corporal responded in a slightly appeased tone. "As for me, you are to address me as Corporal Bennett. You are to show me respect in excess of that which you showed your parents."

"Why?" Aves asked only to receive a cold glare from Corporal Bennett.

"Because you are to respect your superiors." He replied. "Now we have a schedule to follow."

* * *

><p>The first order of business for the night was an excursion to the battle training sessions that fully fledged owlets were participating in. During their travel to the location it was held in, they navigated the narrow stone corridors of St. Aegoleous that seemed to engulf the entire heavens above.<p>

Flint was distracted by his loss the entire time it took to get there, and so the travel took little time to his perspective. When they finally exited the narrow corridors of stone that they traversed through, Flint found himself and his training group stepping into a bright, moon lit expanse.

The glare of the moonlight was intense for the first few moments, temporarily blinding Flint. A short moment passed, and he could tell that the expanse was not excessively large; just a region of relatively flat ground surrounded by four vertical stone walls. It was box canyon that was almost chamber-like, minus the open sky for the moon to shine downward from.

But the stone was unique from the stone of the rest of the canyon lands. It was a pale white and reflected a copious amount of moonlight from the moon above, even though the moon was slightly less than half full.

This intense light cut through Flint's body and pierced his gizzard, causing it to numb and making his head tingle slightly. The other owlets too felt this sensation.

"I don't feel good." Aves complained.

"I don't either." Eilwyn agreed.

Corporal Bennett turned to the two owlets who had spoken. In a stern voice he reprimanded them. "Complaints only convey to others that you are weak. The next time you feel like saying something like that, clamp your beak and keep silent."

There was silence as a reply, and Corporal Bennett was displeased. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." The two owlets replied cautiously.

"'Yes what?" He scathingly asked.

"Yes sir?" Eilwyn answered in an submissive, inquisitive voice.

"Now say it right."

"Yes Sir!" Aves and Eilwyn chorused in unison.

This appeased the Corporal and he addressed all the owlets now. "While these two were wrong to show themselves weak by mentioning their discomfort, they were right to realize that there is something different about this location and its effect on you. What you are feeling is something similar to moonblinking. How many of you know what that is?"

Eilwyn, and two others responded with a muffled "Yes", and the two owlets whose parents were Pure Ones assertively stated "We do."

Flint might have said something had the emotional turmoil of his parents' deaths not been sapping his strength. He just did not feel like doing anything.

"Good." Corporal Bennett replied, "For the rest of you, moonblinking is when an owl is directly exposed to moonlight as he or she sleeps. It can happen over the course of a night but more commonly over a few weeks. The end result is a stilled gizzard that is weak and impressionable. What you feel now is only different in intensity as it is capable of rendering the same results on fully conscious owls."

There was a subtle surge of fearful energy that quietly shot through all the owlets at the last phrase. Seeing and wholly expecting this, the Corporal then added, "That is why you are being exposed to this light, to become used to its power over short periods of time after which your gizzard is purified by another phenomenon called flecks. You are in no real danger of this _moonscalding_ as it is called."

The owlets fears were only slightly alleviated. The Corporal continued speaking though. "Now, this period of time where you will be gaining resistance to this means of brainwashing will not be wasted by having you simply stand here. Instead, I shall tell the newer members of our group of what I have already versed the other members in."

The Corporal adjusted his position to where he was standing in front of the owlets. "Now!" He bellowed, "Form up in a line!"

The six owlets who had been in the squadron prior to Flint's, Triton's, Aves', and Eveline's arrival quickly began scampering about as they frantically began trying to obey their corporal's orders. However, the four new owlets were left standing where they were at a loss, though once the line began to take a visible shape, they jumped into the formation as quickly as they could find a location to do so.

After the initial mayhem settled down and the owlets were standing quietly at what they thought was the best posture of attention, the Corporal walked to the end of one line. While doing so, he simply kept a cold, stony face as he paced in front of the owlets to evaluate their posture and attentiveness.

"Back straight, head level." Corporal Bennett corrected the first two owlets in the line. Meanwhile Flint's attention was caught by some activity in the background behind the Corporal.

There were about ten owls, all fledged and well into their first year, that were fighting each other under the supervision of their commanding officer. Flint first thought that they were fighting for blood, but he saw that they were sparring much like how he and his sister had when they played with each other, though they were being more rough by orders of magnitudes than he and his sister ever were.

Corporal Bennett stepped in front of Flint and blocked his view. "Look at me when at attention, your back needs to be straighter, and get your feet closer together!"

Flint jerked quickly in compliance to the words as Corporal Bennett moved on.

Obeying the Corporal's orders, Flint stood firm in the best posture he could muster and watched the Corporal as he progressed down the line. However; his attention was taken by a sudden aggressive hiss that was given by a Sooty Owl that was sparring with a Barn owl. They were facing each other and were watchfully observing the other, awaiting for a moment to strike.

Both pacing slowly around a central point between them, they had brought their wings slightly down and forward in a mutual threat display.

Without warning, the Barn owl leaped into the air, and so did the Greater Sooty a split second later. They collided mid-air, locked talons, and fell to the ground.

In a blurr of motion, they let loose and tussled to gain an advantage over the other. Happening too fast for Flint to be able to see, the Sooty owl ended up on his stomach on the ground and the Barn owl standing over him.

Before the Sooty could react, the Barn owl latched onto his right wing with a strong set of talons and was trying to restrain his left wing, thus pinning him and thereby signifying a victory. However, the Greater Sooty rolled left and threw the Barn owl off her balance.

The maneuver would have successfully freed him from a vulnerable position had the Barn owl not kept her tight clench on his wing when he rolled. However, as the Barn owl was thrown off balance and fell, she rolled counter to the direction the Sooty owl rolled while holding tightly to his wing.

A loud snap crackled through the moonlight drenched box canyon followed by a splitting cry of pain.

The sound sickened Flint even more than the gizzard numbing moonlight that was irradiating him, and the sight was worse.

The owl's wing was angled at an obtuse angle in an unnatural location, and he lay on the ground in stunned silence for several seconds before he reflexively cried out in pain again.

The sight was gripping, and Flint could not look away no matter how much he felt like it. However a loud, ordering voice caught his attention.

"Flint!".

He jerked his to his corporal.

"Would you care to tell me what I was just talking about? Or were you too distracted by another group that you did not hear?"

"I.. I..." Flint stuttered, realizing that he did not even notice his corporal was speaking. "I don't know."

"Come here." He ordered in a low, commanding tone. Flint stiffly obeyed, nervous about why he was being called up.

When he reached Corporal Bennett, he stopped and with a scared look on his face made eye contact with his superior. There was one brief moment where the corporal returned an expression, but it was made unreadable by a quick jerk of motion.

Flint felt the blow to his head before he saw the incoming strike that knocked him to the ground.

The muscles on his entire right side of the face had tensed and, for one brief moment, Flint was terrified that his jaw had been broken. But he could move his beak okay, though it hurt terribly to do so.

Vision blurred and lying uncomfortably on his side, it took several moments before he could focus his eyes. But as the blurry white world materialized around him, he saw his corporal's shadow fall directly in front of his limp body. He turned his head and looked up to see him scowling at him.

"You will learn to pay attention when I am talking!"

Flint flinched at his full blown yell of a statement, half expecting to be driven into the ground by the volume of his voice alone.

A moment passed, then the corporal turned to look at the other owlets and spoke. "Here is an example of what will happen to those who are doing something improperly after I have already warned them. As I was saying," He continued quieter and to the nine other owlets in the squad, "I suppose those of you who are new can be excused for not knowing the proper posture for attention, but for the rest of you - _especially you two chicks of Pure ones_." His eyes narrowed as he looked at the two chicks, "You cannot be excused for your failures to follow proper military form."

The commanding officer in charge of the group of sparring owls started approaching Corporal Bennett as he was speaking. Though it was to his side, the Corporal saw the approaching owl, ended his thought, and turned to face him as he began speaking.

"Corporal Bennett." The approaching owl stated while the addressed owl nodded in response to show that he was listening. "I have a wounded owl here, and I was thinking your squadron could come observe as he is patched up. We might as well get them exposed to injuries and get them used to seeing them."

"We will take advantage of it then." He replied and then turned to face his group of owlets. "Break line and follow me."

The owlets complied without a word, but Flint was still laying in a fog on his side. He tried to stand, but fell back to the ground in a half haze. He would have been happy if he could at least keep his eyes from blurring when he tried to focus on any of his surroundings.

"Flint. Stand and Follow!" Corporal Bennett bellowed when he saw that Flint was not able to get up.

Trying again, Flint got onto his feet this time and his head cleared enough to where he could see decently. As he fell into step with his Corporal and the other owlets, he was left wondering how much of his daze was actually caused by the strike to his head, and how much was due to the sickening, unnatural moonlight that filled his skull with nausea.

The injured owl was laying on his side in agony as the group of owlets approached him. Nearby, stood his comrades in a circle around him. Their looks were mixed with concern and disdain as they cautiously watched their injured friend; furthermore, the female that broke his wing looked quite worried for him. As her commander approached, she quickly scurried to him and and spoke in a completely even, flat tone as she spoke a clearly preplanned script. "Sir, The injury was not intentional. He rolled out from under me and I lost my balance. It was much too quick for me to let go."

Her emotionless and very military tones were negated when she turned around and cast a very concerned look at her comrade.

"Do not worry; you performed well." Her commanding officer said coolly. "If this were an actual battle between you and an enemy, then you would be alive and he at best would be severely injured. Though I have utmost confidence that you would have no difficulty killing an enemy in such a state."

"None Sir." She stated very firmly. "But not him..." She trailed off and looked back at her fellow squadronmates.

In a not terribly hard tone, her officer scolded her, "I am not reprimanding you for your concern for him because I encourage the close bond between you and your comrades. It is one of the greatest pleasures of being a Pure One. However," His tone dropped to a much more serious inflection. "Do not forget that your higher loyalty is to the Union, and that such concern for an injured comrade can lead to a very perilous situation in battle. If need be, you must be ready to sacrifice any of your friends, no matter how close, if it means the better good for the Union."

"Yes Sir." She said humbly.

"And Cresla..." He replied. She gave him an attentive look and he continued. "Do not forget that he is just a Sooty, after all."

"Yes Sir." She said hesitantly, clearly not taking well to the thought that one of her best friends is a lower order of owl than she is.

"That is all." Cresla's commander stated.

"Yes Sir." She said once again and returned back to the side of the owl whose wing she had broken.

Flint and the owlets gathered around the owl with the broken wing as ordered. Many of them had trouble looking at the sight of the owl's wing bending extremely noticeably in a place that it clearly should not, but the Corporal forced them to look on as one of the young owls in the group belonging to the injured owl began working on the broken wing.

Though a willing participant in the process of having the bone in his wing set, the injured owl had to be restrained by two other owls while a third violently forced the broken bone back into a semi-normal position.

To the sensitive ears of these owls, the sound of the bones moving and grating against each other in his flesh was utterly nauseating. One owlet yarped, or regurgitated up, a half formed pellet not of physical need, but out of pure sickness.

Flint thought he might pass out from the sympathetic pain he was feeling with this owl. Or maybe it was due to the unnatural power of the light from the moon that was seemingly amplified from unnoticeable to intolerable levels by the anomalous white rock in this box canyon.

To Flint, it was quite clear that the pain was immense as the owl forced himself and was forced by others to remain still. However, he still ended up accidentally raking his talons across the belly of one of his comrades and cutting several semi-deep gouges in the skin.

However, the process was gracefully quick and the owl's wing was temporally bound before he was sent off to the infirmary section of the canyons, escorted by Cresla, the owl that had broken his wing.

After he was gone, the sparring continued as usual and Corporal Bennett ordered his owlets to watch closely. Periodically, the owlets were given breaks from the 'moonblazing' as it is called, and sent into the shadows of the adjoining canyon.

While they were there, they were encouraged to play or, if stated more correctly, enact the combat that they were observing. After a brief instructional on what not to do - no biting or scratching, no feather or down plucking, and certainly stay clear of the facial regions when playing - they were allowed to do as encouraged by Corporal Bennett, the other commanding officer, and even a few of the owls who were sparring but were on break.

Most of the owlets grudgingly complied, but with a little time, they almost began to enjoy themselves. Flint, though, found this to be great fun because it reminded him of playing with his sister, but that memory also saddened him.

After about two hours of this routine, Flint's squad receded into the shadows of the canyons with the intent to relocate to a different location as they had, as Corporal Bennett stated, "Been exposed enough to the moon." But before they moved on, they were treated with some strange procedure called 'Fleck Therapy'.

Odd, glistening pieces of metallic substance that were no larger than tiny pebbles were imbedded in wide leather straps that were placed on the owl. Two straps would be used, and they would be draped over the owl in such a way that they would intersect on the back and chest, with the gizzard, and less so the heart, directly between the two places where the leather straps crossed. At these points, the concentrations of flecks were the highest.

The treatment's symptoms were almost as bad as what was suffered from overexposure to the moon. It created a terrible stillness in the gizzard, an almost passiveness, that was layered on top of a sense of nausea and disorientation. To Flint's amazement, though, it was almost a relief because during the 'treatment' he felt less upset about his parents' deaths. Certainly it did not wholly take away the feeling though.

Flint understood none of this as the owls in charge of this 'treatment' did not elaborate beyond implicit necessity, but for some reason, Flint was almost excited that Eric had said he would tell him more about these strange metallic 'flecks',

The entire process lasted only about ten minutes, and it was much to the relief of all the owlets, including Flint, to have the leather straps taken off of them. Once finished, the two owls who were administrating the therapy packed the fleck-leather into special carrying pouches and flew away. Meanwhile, Corporal Bennett and the other commanding officer temporarily merged their groups together to travel to the main armory.

The armory was located in a narrow canyon and connected the main, large canyon to a crater like indention in the terrain with sharp, overhanging cliffs. The open ground in the indention was relatively large and provided a good combat training arena that, unlike the last location Flint was in, contained none of the unusual white rocks.

As the owlets were lead to the location, the two corporals ordered for them to walk in a single file line and in step. Taking about fifteen minutes to train the new owlets in how to do this, the corporals reprimanded each step taken out of rhythm with a harsh bellowing of obscenities. However, each owlet was pared with one of the yearlings so he or she could teach his or her younger counterpart some of the finer points of marching on foot.

Still, Corporal Bennett took the liberty to discipline those who did not fall in line correctly.

At one point, Aves broke down emotionally, began crying, and was utterly incapable of walking, but a swift kick to the sternum hard enough to just take his breath away silenced his wailings. He was then placed in the back of the line and sternly warned that further crying would result in more disciplinary action.

The entire event transpired directly in front of Flint and scared him quite terribly; it was all he could do to keep himself under control after seeing such brutality. After what had happened to his parents, he had no idea what the upper limits for 'discipline' were.

After marching about the canyons for a long time, the corporals must have become satisfied with the owlets' ability to walk in step and they ceased the pointless, rhythmic meander through the canyon system. They gave an order to go down a narrow path that eventually lead to the sparring area near the armory.

Flint by now had become more accustomed to the feeling of entrapment that the thick stone walls above cast over him, but he was still revealed to step into a area where the high walls were farther apart and showed a slightly less narrow slice of sky.

The overall shape of the open area was similar to that of the moon saturated box canyon, but it was slightly larger and several narrow canyons intersected with it. There was another two groups of owlets and their respective corporals, so totaling there were about thirty owlets within a week of Flint's age.

Ordering the line of owlets to form a semicircle around him and listen, Flint's corporal spoke in a hard commanding tone. "We have arrived at our destination; however, our exercises shall not continue until the fifth group of owlets arrives. Until then, you have time to rest or even play, if that is what you wish to do. Do not, however, become loud or leave this area. Once we are ready to begin, I will call you once, and only once. If you do not come within a short time, I will be forced to discipline you."

Flint really did not like the thought of being disciplined again if being boxed in the head was discipline, so he decided he would be extra careful to listen for Corporal Bennett's call.

Turning and walking away to converse with his colleagues, Corporal Bennett left the owlets standing around knowing not what to do.

Doubtlessly, in the minds of some, they were contemplating trying to run away, but there was no path of escape because there were several well placed 'custodial watchowls', as they were called, whose implicit duty was to ensure that young owlets did not escape, cause trouble, or talk about what they were not supposed to.

As for Flint and the two owlets that belonged Pure One parents, they were more interested in actually putting to good use the free time they had because, for Flint at least, he did not want to idle and be forced to think about his parents.

"So what are we going to do?" The male sibling of the two Pure One owlets asked, being the first to speak after their corporal had walked away.

"I don't know." Flint replied after no other owlets answered, not really caring what they did. The rush of the busyness of this night had made forgetting about his parents slightly easier, and he wanted to seek after whatever could distract him from his pain.

There were a few moments of silence as the attempted conversation died out. Sensing this, the male sibling tried another avenue of conversation. "I remember your name is Flint, but I guess you don't know my name, do you?"

Flint shook his head.

Seeing this, the owlet responded. "Okay, well, I am called Millen, and this is my sister." He motioned with a wing to her.

"I'm Ala, short for Alabaster."

"Hello." Flint said flatly.

There was another long drawn out silence, and Flint looked away from the owlets to avoid eye contact. He was watching the squadron of yearlings fly over to the corridor that served as the main armory. Suddenly, he saw something that made his heart jump for joy.

It was Stellars! She was standing next to that strange owl, Nasher, as he was communicating with the yearlings' commanding officer about which sets of battleclaws they were allowed to use for practice.

All of Flint's previous worries about obeying the Corporal disappeared and he made a beeline for his sister.

She saw him coming towards her, and she nearly bolted for him. However, Nasher made a subtle movement that was clearly an order to remain still, and she flinched as if she expected to be hit. Nothing happened, but she still remained standing where she was.

Just a few feet away from her, Flint was astonished at how much she had grown since he had last seen her. She just was larger than the last time he had seen her, and Flint could not figure out if owlets really grew that fast.

"Stellaris!" Flint exclaimed with care, not wanting to draw attention to them. "It's so good to see you!"

His sister cuddled up to him, and for a few brief moments, the world was fine. "Flint. It's wonderfull to see you too!. I've missed you and Mum and Da."

"I've missed you and Mum and Da too" Flint stated, clumsily tacking on the reference to his parents. He felt the entire subject of their deaths would be extremely difficult and painful to even speak about to Stellaris. Right then and there, he decided to not tell Stellaris; he did not want to see her cry. "I've heard that they would be doing very well if they did not miss us so much."

The lie delighted Stellaris to know that they were okay, but she was also sad for them because she understood how painful the longing for separated family members is.

They stood there for a few moments in each others' embrace, not wanting to let go and risk being separated again. However, there was an interruption as an owl landed nearby.

_"Of all the owls..."_ Flint groaned to himself.

It was Eric, coming to speak with Nasher out of curiosity concerning how Stellaris was doing under him, and if she had said anything of interest. Needless to say, he was anything but thrilled to see the two siblings reunited.

"Nasher." He said in a stern voice. "Look behind you."

The comment interrupted the conversation Nasher was having, but it was not like either Nasher or Eric to be limited to simple social pleasantries, so Nasher stopped speaking in the middle of a word and turned his head to look at Stellaris and Flint standing together.

"Stellaris!" Nasher bellowed with great overreaction. The chick had already began cowering back from Nasher before he had even screamed at her.

She stood at the best attention pose she could muster.

A cold wave rushed through the gizzards of the corporals who had heard Nasher reprimand Stellaris. Nasher was a strange bird prone to emotional outbursts, and those who know him fear that he is not quite stable.

Eric bristled his feathers, unphased by Nasher's reaction. In a condescending tone, he asked rhetorically, "Do you remember my recommendations to keep such reactions in check?"

Few owls except the High Tyto or his mate Nyra or any of their top lieutenants would dare speak to Nasher in such a manner. There was an immense field of fear around this owl and though many doubted he would ever kill a Tyto, even the privileged Barn owls treaded lightly around this owl. Needless to say, Eric was the solitary exception, though granted he had once been a high ranking lieutenant. However, he and Nasher had a long history, and they both accepted whatever demeaning things the other had to say.

Nahser chuckled roughly but made no further comment on what Eric said.

Looking at Stellaris, Eric was visibly surprised by her growth. "She has grown quite a bit, hasn't she?"

"Yes. I suppose she had." Nasher commented in his rough voice.

The owl Nasher had been talking to earlier was impatient, but he spoke with utmost care and respect as he tried to get Nasher back onto the subject at hand. "Excuse me, Sir. I know this is important, but my squadron has quite a lot to accomplish tonight."

"Of course." Eric stated, "I will accompany Nasher and talk on the way."

"Come." Nasher ordered Stellaris and turned without ensuring she followed.

She, however, was held by Flint and did not obey.

Looking up at her brother, she knew the trouble she would get into if she disobeyed a direct order. "Flint. Please, let me go. I don't want to leave, but I have to."

"Please Stellaris." Flint begged. "I don't know when we will see each other again."

"I know..." She trailed off, as if she were distracted for a moment, "But I know what he is going to do to me if I don't go right now."

Flint tentatively let go of his sister, and she with equal reserve began walking away; however, she was stopped. The yearlings had remained behind, standing near Flint and Stellaris, so one of them was able to spread his wing in front of her path and stop her as she tried to scurry down the narrow canyon that the armory consisted of.

"Oh, why'd you stop?" He mockingly asked.

Both Flint and Stellaris looked with confusion at the owl.

"Because your wing is in the way." Stellaris replied cautiously.

Ignoring her answer, the owl continued in a demeaning tone. "A black Barn owl. Oh, will you look at that." He turned to his companions that were circling around with expressions approving of his actions. "Ah yes, a black Barn owl, quite the little hagschick you are." His voice turned into a cruel snarl with the last sentence as he spat out a high insult.

There was a light churring by the other yearlings who were observing. Then, one of them joined in. "You dirty little splat. You're more impure than the filthiest droppings of a gull."

Both Flint and Stellaris were shocked and horrified by these owls. Trying to protect his sister, Flint stepped next to her and put his wing around her. "Stop it!" He ordered.

"Ohh." An owl mocked. "He touched her! He touched her! Someone clean him up!"

The owls had circled around him and his sister by now, and one of them stepped from the circle to Flint and grabbed him by the leg.

He was so much smaller and weaker that there was no feasible way for him to fight back as he was torn from his sister's side and dragged a short distance away. There, the owl forced Flint onto his back and, with a couple yells to "Clean him up" by some of the bystanding yearlings, the owl curled his talons into a fist and began grating them with extreme force against Flint's ribs where he had pressed up next to his sister. It was quite painful, and equally humiliating. He was at the complete mercy of this owl, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Meanwhile, the circle was closing on Stellaris who was beginning to panic at the multiple insults that were bombarding her from all sides. However, the yearling that had instigated this was certainly still the center of attention as he degraded her. "I bet your Mum and Da threw you from the nest when you hatched because you were so hideous, you ugly little sprink. Whatcha' do eat racdrops to survive." The combination of the word 'sprink', a word whose meaning is too vile to elaborate, and 'racdrops', a vulgar term for raccoon droppings, hit Stellaris as hard as a physical object. Though she had never heard the terms before, the context was quite clear enough, and she somehow picked up on the full extent of the vulgarity of the phrases.

An owl laughed cruelly. "I bet she rolled in that splat just so she would smell better."

Another round of cruel laughter issued as the first yearling commented "Let's find out." He then reached to grab her by the back of the neck.

He got a small bit of skin in his grip, but it was mostly down. Stellaris cried out in pain much as Flint was doing at this time and tried to wrestle free of her abuser's grip. Trying to pull her to himself so he could mock her further by lifting her off the ground and pretending to smell her, the owl failed and only ripped out a large talonfull of down.

The owl quickly stepped forward towards Stellaris who had pulled as far away from him as she could. "Come here you-" His sentence was cut off, though. As he had opened his mouth to say 'you', he was only a short distance away from Stellaris who had pressed herself against the wall of the canyon. She had prepared a stone in her grasp when she had reared away from the owl, and once he was in close, it was relatively easy to stuff the stone in his beak as he spoke.

Before the yearling could react, Stellaris pulled him forward with great force, adding significantly to his forward momentum and knocking him off balance.

With the force Stellaris imparted added to the speed of him moving forward, the fall was swift and hard. Or it would have been a fall, had he not collided face first into the canyon wall. Stellaris had moved out of the way of the tripped owl, he took the full force of the collision.

There was stunned silence as he let out a groan and rolled over. He had instinctively bitten down hard on the stone as he fell, so there was no give when his beak hit the rock. It had fractured quite noticeably and it was already bleeding.

It was not an extremely serious wound, it certainly would heal, though with noticeable deformation, but it would heal. Still, Stellaris had kept herself safe.

The owl uttered some unintelligible words cursing Stellaris' very existence after spitting out the stone. However, he trailed off because it hurt too much to talk.

The very next instant, a ear splitting screech filled the canyon. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?"

Stellaris and Flint's tormenters froze in terror as not only Corporal Bennett, but two other corporals landed next to them with great force.

Flint's yelling had caught the attention of the commanding officers, and the aforementioned events transpired while they were hurrying to reach where the yearlings were abusing the young owlets.

"We were just..." The owl who had been forcefully grating Flint's ribs with his clenched talons started to say, but trailed off unable to rationalize his actions.

The next instant, he was cuffed so hard by one of the corporals that he fell to the ground in a daze. Flint, now that his assaulter was disabled, took this opportunity to jump away as quickly as possible. His side was burning with pain and he was extremely angry at these owls for what they had done to him and his sister.

Immediately, he ran over to her to see if she was okay.

The yearlings that had been tormenting them were receiving a brutal tongue lashing from the commanding officers who were promising that for the next week, their physical training would be so intense that they would wish they could drop dead.

The ring they had formed had pretty well dispersed, so Flint got to his sister quite quickly. Standing next to her was corporal Bennett who was checking her over for injury.

Flint got to her right when Eric, Nasher, and the yearlings' commanding officer came flying into view as they quickly exited the branching off canyon not ten or so feet away. Apparently they had heard the squabble.

Meanwhile, Flint was utterly shocked to see that his sister was okay, minus the patch of down on the back of her neck that had been plucked out, and he was equally shocked to see the condition of her aggressor.

He had rolled over onto his side and was gripping his beak trying to stifle the pain and flowing stream blood that was emanating forth from it. Flint could only figure that Corporal Bennett had inflicted the injury.

"Stellaris, are you okay?" Flint asked.

She nodded yes, but it was quite clear that she was still scared.

_"I'm pretty badly shaken up too, sis."_Flint mentally commented as if talking to her.

"What is going on!?" Eric demanded in a deadly tone, stepping between Flint, Stellaris, and Corporal Bennett to talk and unknowingly pushing the two owlets towards the yearling with the fractured beak.

The two were had their back to him as they were watching and listening to Corporal Bennett quickly tell Eric and Nasher what had happened. Close enough to be touching the yearling, they heard a muffled grumble from him and quickly whipped their heads around to look at him. He mumbled something unintelligible, then growled in a low, threatening tone, "I'm going to kill you both for this."

"Nasher!" Stellaris called out in a terrified tone as the yearling tried to stand.

Apparently, though, the threat that was supposed to be only heard by Stellaris and Flint, it had been heard by the three conversing owls because they were already on their way to help.

Nasher was the first to strike, purposely aiming a cuff into the owl's beak to induce severe crippling pain, followed by a quick but forceful open taloned jab into the gizzard that further paralyzed the target.

Having lofted into the air, Eric landed on the owl and lifted his head up by the scruff feathers on the back of his neck. "Get Him Out Of Here! NOW!" He bellowed, displaying real emotion for the first time. Heaving his wings and jumping forward, Eric somehow managed to more or less throw the owl several feet flailing madly through the air towards his corporal.

Needless to say, silence had long ago fallen upon every owl who was within distance of observing the events, and all eyes were on Eric as he bristled his feathers and immediately regained his extreme self composure. "I need to talk to all the commanding officers, Immediately." Eric's voice was completely devoid of all vehemence that was present seconds earlier, creating a striking contrast to his appearance just moments ago. He then turned to Corporal Bennett and spoke. "I will not be able to fill you in on all I wish to at the moment because I require you to take Flint away from here as quickly as possible. Tell your squadron that they are to never retail any of these events, and warn them of the _severe_ consequences if they even mention that this rare Barn owl exists."

"Yes sir." He replied submissively.

"But Eric, I want to stay here with Stellaris..." Flint trailed off upon receiving a poisonous glare from Eric.

"Do not say a single thing. You will go with your corporal and not talk back. You will comply or else."

Had Eric screeched that phrase at Flint, he would have been less scared. But rather, the absolute seriousness and coldness of the statement made it all to real for Flint and he felt like he had shrunken to half his size out of fear.

He said nothing else as Corporal Bennett quickly escorted him away, but while he was still close enough to do so, he certainly listened in to what Eric had to say.

"You are to command your squadrons that they are to forget that this ever happened." Eric ordered to the now assembled commanding officers. "They are to never speak of this again."

"Make sure that these two are severely punished." Nasher spoke to the yearling's commander about the aggressors and broke through Eric's speech.

Glaring at the interrupter, Eric harshly scolded "Nasher. Do not think you are free from blame. You have been far too careless with letting this chick be seen, so now it is time we do things my way..."

Eric's words dropped off and Flint was unable to hear what else he said.

* * *

><p>The night had passed, and the day's events had left Stellaris worn out on every level. The encounter with the yearlings had terrified her, and she had not quite emotionally recovered from the whole ordeal. She missed her parents dearly, and she thought her entire up heaved world would be right again if only she could fall asleep under hear Mum or Da's wing.<p>

Nasher, the militaristic owl that he is, had insisted that Stellaris spend the entire night learning about the different weapons and trying to wield them. And under his supervision, that was the exact thing she did. She was so young, though, that to any observers it would seem foolish to be teaching her such things.

Once or twice through the night, she had caught Eric and Nasher conversing about her, and occasionally, she would catch a flickering vision of them talking. However, the images were fleeting and contained little dialogue. But all that she had heard amounted to a few phrases she could stitch together.

Eric was obsessed about something called 'reconditioning' and 'flecks'. Nasher did not want it if it would impair her somehow. And then Eric reassured that it would not impair anything, and that he would begin right away.

Stellaris did not know the meaning of the words 'reconditioning' and 'flecks', so the major context of the sentence was lost on her.

Tired and exhausted, she was glad that Nasher had ordered her to sleep, so she complied readily. In a cave in the canyon where the armory is located, Nasher kept his few possessions and would roost there at night. Completely contrary to his nature of spartan living conditions, he had given Stellaris a nest of twigs lined with feathers.

They weren't his feathers of course; he simply plucked them from the backs and chests of impure non-Tyto owls, leaving gaping bald spots on one or two of them. These were not the heavily moonblinked owls who were once naturally resident to these canyons, but rather were owls who had been captured by the regime and were fully normal. It was such a pleasure causing discomfort to them.

Still, whatever enjoyment Nasher may have gotten out of it, making anything for anyone was a gesture contrary to his personality.

Climbing into the soft nest, Stellaris was ready for sleep. She was so tired, that she overlooked the strange numb feeling that overcame her as she climbed in, and she ignored the hard little shiny objects that were buried in the feathers lining the nest.

As she fell asleep, she held one of the pieces of metal in a set of talons and gently rolled it about between them wondering when she would see her family again and what flecks are.


	13. Burried Fire

Like the smoldering, ashen embers in Eric's fire dish, so was the appearance of the sun setting the next day. A crimson red orb half buried behind a gray rocky outcropping hung sickly in the sky, throwing long shadows across the world. Flint's parents' deaths hoovered central in his mind much like the weaning star in the sky, and to him, it seemed to mirror his broken gizzard.

He was watching Amelia and Felic mutually preen near the den's entrance. It was strange at best for Pure Ones to mutually preen, being taboo in the unspoken social structure; forbidden because it shows vulnerability, shows weakness. The goal of a Pure One was to be strong, and to follow orders. Whether training, patrol, recruitment, or any other of the literal hundreds of orders, assigned tasks are the life of a Pure one. This is the knowledge that Flint had already learned in his short time with them. Flint did not know if he liked the idea of this hard lifestyle, though the adult owls seemed to be completely fine with it. But right now, he simply wanted to feel loved, he wanted something to fill the void left by his parents.

Mindlessly, Flint wandered over to the two preening owls, wanting some affection.

With one last feather of Felic's combed with her beak, Amelia said a goodby and sent Felic on his way. Meanwhile, Flint bumped up against Amelia and struck her with the loving look that he always gave his mother when he wanted a preening.

Staring coldly at him for several seconds, she backed away, leaving Flint simply standing there looking foolish.

He was indescribably lonely.

She turned towards Eric who was perched in the back cataloging many of the owls that were taken into the Union yesterday and marking their position in the ranks. Without a trace of sympathy or care that Flint was present to hear her rant, Amelia angerly complained to her mate. "I thought I told you I will have nothing to do with him. And the more that I have thought about it, the more I have realized the trouble we will be in if your 'hunch' is correct."

Eric looked up at her, "I assure you that I do know what I am doing. That is precisely why shortly I will be addressing Stryker about Flint."

Being spoken of in the third person in such a fashion only lowered Flint's spirits further.

Eric's gaze drifted over to the upset and emotionally battered youth, "I am almost certain I am correct. As such, I know that he will be departing my custody. Still, I can hope that I will be able to teach him many of the skills that I have learned. Surely I need not be the only Pure One with a functional understanding of fire and who truly grasps what flecks are."

"Make sure that you get this all worked out. Because I wholly intend not to be killed as punishment for keeping him here." She glared at Flint. "I doubt that you will be allowed to keep him as your apprentice anyway."

The look that she gave Flint was a strange look it was. In his short life, he had seen many looks, some directed at him, most towards his sister. But either way, those were easy to read, but this one is beyond anything he knew. Though, it certainly was similar to the worried looks that his parents would on occasion cast at his sister.

Amelia left the den and flew away without a word, leaving Flint with Eric.

He was going to say something to the old owl concerning why Amelia was acting in such a manner, but he opted out, not knowing what to expect of Eric's reaction. And after seeing his reaction yesterday over him and Stellaris being attacked, he held a new, fearful respect for the owl.

Instead Flint walked over to the fire dish and caught himself staring at one of the few ash covered embers. It was so small that he could most likely hold several of them in at once. Fire was so strange, but yet so equally beautiful and enrapturing to Flint. He was yet to actually get to observe a large fire for any period of time, but the few embers that were visible warmed him in their radiant glow and enlivened his mind. The soft red hue, the warmth, those two attributes were two desirable traits that Flint liked, but there was a third that Flint wished he could observe when the fire or even the coals were larger.

Unlike nearly every object that Flint had seen, the coals were dynamic to his eyes. Stones, leaves, wood, feathers, all retain their same texture and shape and have no underlying images associated with them. But fire - that was different.

The coals had their characteristic black, red, and orange hues, but to Flint, he could see a slight swirling laying under the normal texture of the object's surface. Morphing and changing like clouds in a turbulent sky, the underlying image beckoned to Flint. He felt that if the fire in the metal holding dish was larger or perhaps if he were closer to the coals, he would see this mystical pattern more clearly.

Trying to peer deeper into the heart of the coal, Flint stood on the tips of his talons and leaned forwards letting his belly down rub on the metal rim of the fire dish. Inadvertently, he leaned too far and tumbled in.

The thick ash piled up in front of him as he slid on his stomach towards the center and slowed him down.

Stopping within a down's breadth from the embers, Flint found that he indeed did get a closer look, and not only could he see the ember better, but smell and seemingly taste it as well.

Eric had seen where Flint's actions were going to take him long before he fell into the dish, so he was already halfway there when Flint took his tumble. Within the second afterwards, Eric was at the edge of the large fire dish.

Flint felt a set of strong talons grab him by the leg and pull him backwards out of the ash.

Awkwardly, Flint was assisted out of the fire dish by Eric, throwing much ash into the air.

Once he was out and on his feet, he coughed while shaking his down and fledging feathers. Another plume of ash filled the air while even more dropped onto the already dirt covered floor.

Eric gave a quick, but gentile flap of his wings to blow the ash in the air away, then coughed once as well. "You have to be more careful."

"Sorry Eric. I was just..."

Sternly interrupting Flint, Eric scolded, "You are to refer to me as 'Sir'. Do not believe that because you are my apprentice that that you will be given the luxury of lax discipline." He stopped for a moment to look over Flint who was taken slightly off guard.

He continued on, "Although I no longer fight in the military, I still hold a highly positioned honorary rank under Nyra and the High Tyto for my years of service, and you are to give me the respect my position deserves. Furthermore, always stand perfectly upright when addressing any higher ranking Pure One." Eric tapped Flint on the back as a tactile indication for him to straighten up.

Flint straightened up and replied somewhat nervously, "Yes Sir."

Eric then spoke with less sternness. "It is for your own good that you learn discipline. If you hold true to it, you will go far in our ranks." He stopped for a moment to look Flint over, "Who knows how far you will go. Now, Flint, I have a question for you.."

Flint nodded.

Eric, in response stated his question. "I have seen many owls seen owls fascinated with fire, myself included. However, some have unusual powers. During my service to the Pure Ones, I have always assisted in selecting the smiths who construct our weapons and armor. Some of the best smiths have a certain connection to the fire they harness." Eric's tone lowered. "As long as I have been alive, I have been able to tell which owls have this 'firesight' as it is called. And just now, I thought I may have seen a flicker of it in you."

Eric then sternly asked, "Do you see anything unique in the fire?"

Looking down and kicking a small pile of ash with his talons, Flint sighed, "I don't know."

"Look me in the eye when you speak, Flint." Eric sternly corrected.

Flint quickly tensed himself, his expectations already having been ingrained by his corporal with the fear of physical punishment when an action is not completed correctly. But when he wasn't struck, he looked up at Eric, "It's just I haven't seen fire before. I find it interesting... It's just interesting."

Flint deliberately made his answer ambiguous concerning the mysterious sight he saw held within the dying coals in the fire pit. Knowing Stellaris and her powers, perhaps Flint was more attune to knowing when a sense or sight one owl has is not known by another. This being the case, Flint guessed that whatever the oddities he saw in the fire were unique to him. And with such a unique power, Flint was worried about letting anyone else know about it.

He was still to make up his mind on what he thought about all of these owls. The ones that had saved him had been so kind, but there were so many other reasons to not trust them. They had been responsible for the deaths of his parents, but yet Mercury and Windy themselves had told Flint the grizzly fate many hireclaws deserve. And, as hard as it was for him to accept, they had all but admitted that they were indeed hireclaws when that Pure One officer had been... well.. Flint didn't really know what the officer was doing when he was speaking to Mercury and Windy; Flint didn't understand why really he should have been interested in speaking with them. But he did make valid points about his parents.

In short, the entire situation was confusing, and Flint did not have the confidence in the Pure Ones to tell of anything special about himself.

These thoughts tumbled through Flint's head in the time it took Eric the time to say, "Flint, tell me a yes or no response. Is there something special about what you see in the fire? Tell the truth."

"No. And I am telling the truth." Flint stated mildly. "I was just looking at the fire because I have never seen it much before now."

"That is 'No, Sir." Eric corrected. "Or should I say that it should be 'Yes, Sir.' because I believe you are lying."

Flint had feared that he did not disguise his lie well enough, partially because he had never blatantly lied before.

"No, Sir." Flint replied trying to convince Eric that he was telling the truth.

Several seconds passed as the two carried out a long, unblinking stare. Finally, Eric finally broke it after coldly saying, "I see." and turned away from Flint.

At the side of the room next to a stack of books was a small pile of dry sticks. Eric walked over there and got a talon full, walked back, and threw them on the fire once he had gotten to the fire dish. He then lofted back over to his writing perch and grabbed the piece of parchment he had been writing on. Additionally, he grabbed a rucksack.

"I'm going to go deliver this reassignment notice to one of my colleagues and harvest a little more wood. Stay here." Eric gave Flint yet another long, unreadable stare.

Flint ignored the looks and posed a question, "Sir? Can you find out how my sister is doing? I want to know she is okay, especially since yesterday." Flint had been truly concerned for his sister since the incident with the yearlings.

"At least I see you have remembered to show proper military respect." Once again, his tone was flat, but showed a small degree of pleasure resulting from Flint's following of military code by addressing him as 'Sir'. "I will find out how she is; however, do not expect this to be a normal routine."

"Thank you." Flint replied.

Silently, though, Eric noted that he must find a way to 'remove' the bond between Flint and Stellaris, lest he risk a dangerous liability.

Seeing that Flint had nothing more to say, he exited the den and lofted away. However, he discretely doubled back once he was well out of sight of the den's entrance. His hopes were that he would be able to secretly observe Flint and his interaction with the fire.

Meanwhile, Flint waited a few moments after Eric left before turning to look at the ever growing fire.

Now that there was much more volume to the coals and flames, Flint could definitely say that there was something quite peculiar to the phenomenon.

The individual licks of flames were just that - licks of fire; however, the flames were divided into several types that Flint could see right away. First were the normal ones that simply provided a backdrop to the other images. Flint saw these as any normal creature would perceive them.

Next were flames that were like the normal ones in shape and color, however their surfaces held images of a strange nature. It was as if the images were overlayed onto the three dimentional structure of the flames much in the same way as if one were to draw a detailed image onto a leaf or piece of parchment and then bend and contort the flat surface into complex shapes. The end result is a highly distorted image that is extremely difficult read.

But these imaged, though appearing to reside on the surfaces of the flames, were independent of them. As the flame moved, the image would remain stationary and be distorted and deformed as if the flame was not so much a holder of the image to be seen, but rather a fissure in the world where the image could bleed through. A close analogy to the distortion effect on the image would be like the surface of a shallow stream. The water, in a sense, is a portal for the image of the underlying stones and ground to bleed through, and, being such, is open to distort those images as pleased. The way that the ripples, disturbances, and inconsistencies in the surface of the water affect and contort how the bottom of the stream is perceived is quite similar to how the flames were manipulating the images seeping through them.

And finally, there were flames that morphed and shifted in Flint's perception much in the same way that a cloud might morph. These flames were the most complex because they were structured from the previous two aforementioned types. They actively take shapes of objects or even owls and periodically through their life time change their volume and configurations into different objects.

All of this gave Flint a headache as he stared into the growing flames for the first minute or so. However, up until that point, all that he saw was just a random assembly of a sparse number of images. A tree, a rock, and once even the face of an owl, but that was it until this point. Slowly, though, this began to alter.

It first began as Flint's vision slowly blurred and darkened around the edges of his perception, providing a greater focus on the manifestations in the fire. Simultaneously, there was a slow but noticeable unifying of images into one greater image. Suddenly, something just 'clicked' and the entire scene was splayed out in front of Flint.

In the vision, he saw what looked like pillars of smoke rising from a greater cloud of smoke hanging below. Slowly the smoke cleared in several key places to reveal a canopy level view of a thick evergreen forest consumed with fire.

Flint's vision had now completely blurred at the edges and he felt immersed in the world he was watching. His gizzard suddenly lurched forwards as if he was taking into flight. It felt as if he was leaving his body and was occupying another owl's body as it flew with great terror through burning branches.

It was almost dream like in fact. He had no control of the images as they quickly represented the eye view of an owl as it dropped down to a few inches above the ground and continued weaving through burning brush. A tree consumed by flames off to the side of the flight path gave a tremendous crack as it began to fall. Flint's body physically wilfed as he felt the owl in his vision fold its wings in and scarcely clear the space between the ground and the collapsing tree.

In the series of images, Flint could feel the terror of the owl in his vision as it whipped its head around and checked behind. The sense of the owl physically call something out caressed Flint, but there was no associated sound.

A dark silhouette of a owl clutching something in its talons fearlessly shot through the flames of the now downed tree and a feeling of relief washed over the owl in Flint's vision as it turned its head back forwards and continued flying through the fire.

There was an odd feeling of conclusion, like something was finished. Then like smoke caught in an air eddy, the vision seemed to melt away into thin wisps and swirled spiritedly. There was a brief moment of chaos as the fiery sensation rematerialized in a different place. He felt weightless as he seemingly hoovered through thick flames consuming evergreen branches in the mid-canopy level.

Suddenly he entered into a small clearing with a single, tall pine tree in the middle of it. Owls with battle claws and helmets were fighting around the tree engulfed in fire. Up at the very top was a Barn owl and another, smaller owl, a species Flint had never seen before.

Suddenly, Flint's concentration was diverted away from the fire. The images quickly decomposed as Flint quickly felt worry rush over him and he twisted his head around to look at something he seemed to sense.

It was Eric watching him, standing more or less obstructed by the burrow rim. Flint jumped startled, not thinking that he was being watched. There was feeling of anger that washed over him, followed by the guilt of being caught.

Eric smiled wryly and then flew off. The smile wreaked with the self satisfaction of being able to say "I caught you." This made Flint all the more angry.

Flint waited several minutes before sticking his head outside to make sure Eric was gone. He then turned and looked back into the fire.

Once again, an image slowly materialized. This time, it was a Barn owl, obviously male. He had a large white facial disk that was scared with a diagonal slash and was circling over what appeared to be several mountains. Each had craters in them revealing a boiling red liquid, namely lava. Time passed in a dreamlike fashion as the next moments the owl dove into the crater of one of the mountains and retrieved a coal with an oddly colored core out of the red liquid.

An odd air of familiarity hung around this owl, but Flint could not pinpoint it.

Seeing these images in the fire was quite traumatizing, it disturbed him to the point of being outright scared and he did not want to be marred by them for life. Certainly, he was questioning his sanity because he was seeing things that others could not.

He intensely stared at the fire, trying everything he could think of to quench the images. After a short time, he found that focusing on one particular image and trying to make it vanish did just that.

He stood like this for about a minute and was meeting with some success, though, forcing an image to disappear often resulted in another nearly exactly like it reappearing a few moments later.

How Flint wished that he could make the images stop. But they would not, so he tried harder to bury whatever it was inside of his mind that was creating these apparitions in the fire.

Finally, he found that simply overlooking the images was almost like not seeing them. If you looked into the heart of the fire, not wishing to see anything, then nothing would be shown. It took a few minutes for Flint to hone this 'blindness' to where there were no images shown or feelings conveyed, but he succeeded with surprising effectiveness.

As the images were vanishing, Flint saw a fragment of one that had a set of feelings associated with it. It was distant and vague in form, but the conveyed feelings were clear. The feelings were regret and sorrow over having blinded himself to these images. These emotions were the last bits of information conveyed through the fire as figurative portal of information that Flint could perceive was sealed.

Suddenly, Flint realized that he had made a terrible, life altering mistake. And it was a mistake that was apparently irreversible.

Try as he might, Flint could not see any further images in the fire; he had effectively blinded his firesight.

Eric returned a quarter hour later with several large pieces of wood in his talons. Landing a few feet in front of Flint, he spoke in a serious tone "Flint, I will speak with you for the lies you told me, but first I have some bad news."

His gizzard churned painfully as Eric spoke, "I was delivering a copy of the recruitment roster to a colleague and on my way back, I visited Nasher to asked about your sister."

Eric paused, only increasing the drama felt by Flint. "She was killed in her sleep."

The words 'She was killed' sunk into Flint like fangs piercing into his flesh and made him feel like collapsing. Wings dropping to his sides, Flint went into a yeepish state of disbelief as Eric continued.

"Nasher and I have reasons to believe it was the owl who attacked her yesterday and who ended up with a cracked beak. He was spending his sleeping time through the day at the infirmary, and it was noticed that he left midway through, but we don't know for sure who killed her."

There were several more moments of silence between the two owls as Flint tried to even comprehend what had been said. For some reason, the information refused to be accepted by Flint's mind.

"Now," Eric stood erect in the formal, strict posture of Pure One military, "You, have explaining to do."

The words fell muffled into Flint's ear slits and the world seem to blur into a dark fog around his head. The sudden sharpness of Eric's voice partially brought him out of the emotionally induced daze.

"I asked you to explain your lying to me, Flint. I assure you that you would have been severely punished already if you had lied to any of the commanding officers in our ranks."

"She's dead?" Flint asked, not believing the reality that had been told to him.

"Answer my question Flint. Why did you lie to me?"

"I... I..." Flint was unable to focus on what Eric said as to compose a well planned reply. "I didn't know... I mean I just..."

"Stop Stuttering and Answer!" Eric ordered.

"I did not lie." Flint replied. "I don't see anything in the fire." This time, it was not a lie.

Eric studied Flint and his statement for several tense moments. Inside his mind, Flint squirmed and hoped that Eric would not see through his exaggeration. Finally, with much pause, Eric spoke. "The go ahead and prove that you are not lying. Look into the fire and let me be the judge."

Flint, in his dazed state, complied and looked into the fire. No images still, not that he would have paid any attention to them anyway. He had just gotten to the point that he could perpetually hold back the tears at the thought of his parents, and now his entire self control had been broken down again. There was no fighting it.

It was several long minutes before Eric finally spoke. "That is enough Flint. I was mistaken." He said coldly. Eric just could not believe that he was wrong though; he had never been wrong about this sort of thing before. Then again, he did only see a few seconds of insight into Flint's supposed firesight.

"Yes Sir." Flint replied, though he hardly sounded happy. "But sir... what about my sister?"

"I already told you Flint, she was killed." Surprisingly though, Eric's tone was gentle and sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

Tears were already welling up in Flint's eyes. "I just can't... just can't..." His voice cracked, "It's hard to believe she's dead..."

The world had taken surreal hues for Flint that matched the surreal and confused feelings that were coursing through his mind. These sensations were brought forth by Flint's inability to physically and emotionally accept that his sister had been killed, even though he had mentally accepted her death as truth.

"What happened to her, how did she die? Can I go to her final ceremony?" Flint asked grimly concerning his sister's death and the ritual that follows an owl's end of life.

In usual situations, when an owl dies, there are several varieties of ceremonies to honor the deceased. In the treeless, snow and ice covered Northern Kingdoms, it is commonplace to compose a song. The song details the owl's life and can last up to several hours if he or she was held in high esteem in their society. All that knew the owl would attend the final ceremony and honor the owl's memory with a vow of silence that can last up to several days in honor of of the dead. As the final phrases of the song are being sung, the dead owl's body is enclosed in a formation of ice where thick, semi-triangular shaped sheets of the substance are propped against each other to form a squat, cone-like structure. The structure is then buried in a thick layer of snow and marked with special, dark colored stones placed around the base's circumference. Some members of the royal families will even have pieces of certain metals placed instead of stone, though it is often less desirable because the stones last much longer.

Through the entire region, the individual characteristics of these ceremonies vary substantially, but are more or less the same, though there are greater differences in other locations.

In the Southern Kingdoms which are more temperate, the rituals vary slightly more. The same ceremonial songs and reverence exists, but the vow of silence is often truncated in favor of an uplifting, spirituous gathering of friends and family to remember the good times associated with their loved ones. The burial consists of slightly more varied themes, with the owl sometimes placed inside a family burial hollow where other family members and even friends have been laid to rest. This is most common in Ambala, where the trees are of great age and many spare hollows abound.

As for the blood foes of the Pure Ones, the Guardians of Ga'Hoole, they merge the ceremonies of the Northern and Southern Kingdoms as they draw their heritage from both locations, but yet they also have their own unique rituals. Upon death, a special headdress made of the leaves of the tree is placed upon the dead owl's head as a symbol of the life borrowed from the Great Tree. Then, a special song is sung by their chief singer and accompanied by an instrument known as a 'grass harp'. Once the song is finished, the owl's body will honorably be disposed of in a sea burial if the owl was a navigator or weather interpreter for the Great Tree. Otherwise, the body would be buried at the base of the tree to symbolize how through his or her life, he had gained a debt to the Ga'hoole Tree by the shelter and safety it gave, and by being buried at its roots, they were paying their debt by giving live back to the tree. Sometimes, a member of the monastic Glauxian Brothers or the Glauxian Sisters would come to speak final words for the owl during the ceremony and give comforts to those left behind.. The two mentioned groups of owls are two distinct and very exclusive collections of owls who dedicate their lives to the single owl God - Glaux. Their beliefs in life, death, the afterlife, and morality, coincide very closely with those of the Guardians and most owls alive, so their leadership in such a matter during the time of mourning is very comforting.

Concerning the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones, though, their rituals are starkly different. One does not necessarily receive much of a mention at death. There would be a ceremony where the body would be disposed of, but focus on the spiritual things are not their ways. With much weaker family ties than other kingdoms, it is often left to the owl's comrades to mourn an owl's death, and even then, they do not do so for very long. Or at least that is what they are ordered to do. In reality, though not shown on the outside, the death of a comrade can be quite traumatizing to an owl, and often, it is a very long time before the death is well accepted by the other members of whatever squad of owls the death took place in. Often times, a lost friend - a 'brother' or 'sister in valor' as they are referred to - can forever change a soldier and his or her sense of identity.

All but the most basic of this information was unknown to Flint, but he did at least know that a deceased owl should receive some form of honors. But he soon found out how the Pure Ones acted in reference to their dead.

In response to Flint asking about attending Stellaris' final ceremony, Eric replied, "I did not ask about the means of her death, but Nasher did tell me that her body had already been burned in the forge of a rogue smith."

Flint's breath was taken away by the statement. "But.. but... why would you do that? What about her... her ceremony?"

Casting a cold look at Flint, Eric kept a somewhat sympathetic tone, but he chose the most brutal words imaginable. "There was no ceremony to be had. She ceased living, and we were forced to dispose of her body. Besides, her life was much too short for anyone to be able to compose a song as you might be expecting. Though I might add, we would not do that anyway. It just is not our custom."

Stricken dumb with sorrow and pain, Flint did not know what to do other than to stand there crying. Eric, seeing this, walked over to Flint's side and put his wing around the owlet. "It is okay. Things will get better." The old owl told Flint in a tone that was only gentle in comparison to Eric's normal tone.

A few moments passed, and then Flint wrapped his wings around Eric and embraced him, needing someone to hang onto for emotional support.

The old owl smiled because Flint, at some level at least, had accepted him emotionally. Indeed this pleased him, because he could not have expected such a good outcome.


	14. Peer Pressure

Four long days had passed for Flint since he had been told of his sister's death and he had spent them in mourning. The first two days were almost unbearable, but within a short time, a sort of emotional numbness set in. Then again, to one so young, four days is a much larger portion of one's life. To an owl that is in it's fifth year of life, two hundred days is the same as are four days to one so young as Flint. Indeed, to a creature of twenty years of age, two years is the same percentage of time as four days to Flint were at this time.

So in truth, the four days in comparison to the thirty eight days of his live have been a lengthy period from Flint's perspective to mourn the loss of not only his sister, but his parents as well. Of course this is not to say that the time of grieving a loved one can be elastically scaled to match the relative times among the different ages; however, the relative ages do play a moderate role in the length of mourning another. Flint, being so young, simply did not have the array of memories that an older owl, or a member of any other species that is not notoriously forgetful, would have. New memories come in and very effectively overpower the others simply because there is such a representatively small sample of prior experiences. In fact, Flint had only known Stellaris for only a few days, though the time seemed years longer to him than the adult owls.

This too was the case for the other owlets that were Flint's comrades under Corporal Bennett, their time away from their parents, friends, and family seemed much longer than had they been older.

As the owlets were eating a meager meal, rationed of a single cricket for each owlet and a few pieces of snake to be spread around the entire group, their limited and quite slowed view of the passage of time was apparent in their conversations.

"I just can't believe how long it's been since I saw Mum and Da." Cyndermore quietly disbelieved to the other owlets as they were eating their rations. "I hope they are okay."

Silence fell upon the entire group for a few seconds as the entire assembly of owlets were forced to remember the absence, and perhaps even deaths, of their loved ones. An exception of course was the pair of chicks, Alabaster and Millen, who would get to see their parents in a few hours.

"I don't think any of us are going to see them again." Eilwyn stated glumly.

There was more silence, and Eilwyn squirmed slightly having realized that he had said something that, though he knew it to be true, should not have been said lest the entire group's moral break completely. In hopes of focusing on something brighter, he then added, "But at least it isn't too terrible. I mean the entire being a Pure One thing... It almost seems like it will be fun."

Besides Cyndermore and two other owlets, Eveline and Woodrow, that were strongly against such a blasphemous notion, the other six owlets, Flint included, did not protest the thought. In fact, Flint, had he not been coping with the loss of his family, would have liked the prospect of maybe someday proving himself on the battlefield and earning his way up the ranks. In the very least, he would have enjoyed the past few days as Eric's pupil because the old owl certainly had a generous quantity of interesting information to teach.

"Fun? You think this is fun?" It was Eveline asking in an incredulous voice, the little owlet who lost her parents when her siblings turned on them. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing..." Eilwyn replied, "I just don't think that the Pure Ones are that bad."

"Ya." Commented a Grass owl, the one who Flint noticed had some severe bruises a few days ago. "The food isn't that bad, and they let us play and have some fun now and then. What's so bad about them?"

"For one, why don't you rub the side of your face. I bet it is pretty tender after you got decked by Corporal Bennett." Cyndermore scathingly replied.

"That was my fault." The Grass owl, Kail, replied. "I made a mistake, and Da punished me. It worked too, I'm not ever going to make that same mistake again." His voice was almost chipper by the last sentence.

"Do you hear yourself?" Cyndermore burst out loudly. It was a good thing that Corporal Bennett had a small task to perform, so had left them more or less unattended and did not hear Cyndermore's reaction. Then again, Cyndermore would have probably controlled himself more had Corporal Bennett been around.

"I don't know what your problem is." Millen said flatly to Cyndermore. "Ala's and my Mum and Da joined the Pure Ones, willingly, when they were adults, and they have never complained.

"Ya. And I don't like how you are talking about them." Alabaster complained. "The Pure Ones are my family as much as my Mum and Da are."

"No they are not. They are-" Cyndermore was cut off by Kail.

"Will you please just Shut Up!?" Kail exclaimed. "You're always complaining, and I just don't want to hear you go on about all this again!"

"I am not complaining." Cyndermore growled in a low, angry tone.

"Yes you are." Alabaster replied. "You just are too weak to take life as a Pure One."

"Doesn't anyone see what they are doing to us? They are trying to subvert us; get into our minds and make us them. Please, someone agree with me!" Cyndermore exclaimed again.

There was silence for several seconds, during which Flint almost spoke up, but he truly did not know what to think. He might have said something, but he certainly did not want to put his neck on the line and take the scorn from the entire group if Cyndermore was wrong.

Several more seconds passed, and Cyndermore pleaded. "Please, someone."

Flint wondered if there were other owlets with the same reservations he had, and that all he had to do to find out was to speak his mind. The rest might find courage to follow suit if someone would simply start.

Or, Flint could be the only owlet with such thoughts, and by saying them and siding with Cyndermore, he would be disowned by the larger group.

Silence continued for several more seconds as Flint tried to muster the willpower to say something, but his chance passed him by once Millen spoke. "See. You are just weak and no one agrees with you."

Alabaster, Eilwyn, and Keil responded with a mixed chorus of "Told you", "Ya" and "Weakling" respectively.

With this, Flint was quite glad that he did not speak out because he would have been the only other owlet to do so. Well, maybe that is not true, but he will never know for sure.

For the rest of the day, Cyndermore was completely silent and said nothing else.


	15. Authorized Brutality

The moonlight from the nearly full moon was shining brightly onto Flint's new feathers he, a fledgling now, admired them. Until the last week, they had been covered by the overlaying owlet down and were difficult to see much of, but starting about five days ago, the down had slowly begun to fall away to show the feathers' true splendor. Most of Flint's body was now well feathered, being fifty four days of age, and he simply loved the feeling of having a layer of feathers instead of his owlet down. Still, though, Flint had a fair amount of down left on his back and on his front side just below his chest.

In short, Flint was growing up, and quite rapidly too. It would only be a few more days before he and his squadron would begin learning to fly. Such exciting thoughts; however, there were other things that he and his comrades would learn to do before flying. Corporal Bennett had promised them that.

They had been keeping to their normal schedule for this particular few days. They were learning how to properly wield battleclaws, the weapon of choice for most soldiers of the Pure Ones. These were not simple lessons, but rather were intense training sessions on how to properly strap onto their talons the different sub-varieties of the weapons. For each type, there was a particular method of tying the vole or rabbit skin leather straps, so it took an entire day of practice to become competent of donning, removing, and the re-donning the weapons.

Nonetheless, their schedule consisted of half a night's practice with the claws and then several long hours of physical training to strengthen each of fledglings so that they would be strong fliers from the start.

But tonight, the second half of the night would be entirely different.

Corporal Bennett had ordered his ten subordinates to form up in a line so he could relay to them the change in their schedule and the lesson behind it.

"Listen up squadron." He ordered, starting his line of speech. "You have been learning very well about the array of weapons that you will be using on the field of combat, and I compliment you on your potential."

There was a slight bristle of positive energy that pulsed through the lined up fledglings as they received high praise from their corporal. Corporal Bennett saw this and paused a moment, overlooking the slight breach of etiquette. "Yes. You have performed well. However, I have seen in more than a few of you show hesitation when it I have told you that these weapons will be used to slay the impure. And that is Unacceptable!" Corporal Bennett bellowed the last word then calmed back down to a normal tone. "Now, because of this, I have decided that it is high time that you take part of a very special event that all young Tytos in our ranks get to undertake. Now tell me Cyndermore," Corporal Bennett looked at the Barn owl he addressed. "What are the impure species when compared to us as Pure blood Tytos?"

"Gull splat, Sir. More dirty than racdrops." He showed no signs of hesitation when he spoke because he had none. Cyndermore had wholeheartedly had accepted the Pure Ones and their beliefs along with all the other members of the squadron Flint was in.

"Good. Now Triton. What are we, as Pure Tytos to do with the lower, impure order of owls?" He asked authoritatively.

The fledgling Masked owl responded. "They are ours to use as we please, Sir."

Corporal Bennett nodded slightly and replied in a controlled military tone. "Yes. That is right, Triton." He then turned to Flint and ordered to him a question. "How are we supposed to feel about the impure?"

"We are supposed to hate them, Sir." Flint replied. "I detest them with all my gizzard."

Flint was speaking out of truth, and had any of the other fledglings same thing, they would have been speaking out of truth as well. The Pure Ones, in their bloated egotistical views, believed that only the Barn owl species, the Tytos, were worthy of being called a 'True Owl'. As such, their officers could be quite effective, even in only a few weeks, when given young owlets imprint with their beliefs.

Addressing the entire group, the corporal ordered harshly, "Now all of you say it!"

There was a unified chorus of "I hate them all!" Needless to say, the coordinated screaming of the statement was not unpracticed.

One would not think that hatred could be so easily learned, but teaching it was an art form for the corporals in charge of initiating owlets and fledglings that did not know better. This resulted in an entire culture of hatred that was at the core of the life of any true Pure One.

Corporal Bennett stifled a slight smile from seeing such a prompt and heartfelt response. Instead, he remained stern. "It is high time you get to show your hatred then."

The fledglings were left wondering what their corporal was speaking of, but they knew not to ask questions. If something was not told to them, then they either did not need to know it or it would be told to them at a later time. It was not their place to question authority and decide what they needed to know.

Still, there was a silent wonder that was passed between the fledglings as they were being lead, walking single file in step to their destination.

Flint and his comrades were being lead through a section of the canyons that they had not been through before. But while they were going there, Flint remembered Eric had mentioned something about where the moonblinked and non-Tyto owls were ordered to sleep when not performing some task that assisted the Union. It was somewhere in this area, if Flint recalled correctly.

Shortly, the destination was reached. The small ravine that the owls had been walking through connected onto a massive section of a large canyon. Eric had told Flint that this is where the last inhabitants of St. Aegoleous moonblinked their entire forces. Hundreds of owls at once would be ordered to sleep in the full shine of the moon in this canyon, and most of their waking time would be spend in the general area. The library was nearby, Flint had wanted to go there for long time, and Eric promised that once he was able to fly, that he would go.

Even now, though, there was a tremendous level of activity in this canyon. Dozens of armed Pure ones were flying patrol in the skies far above the canyons while many others were perched on outcroppings on the walls. Meanwhile, literal hundreds of non-tyto owls were flying or walking through the canyon. Many of the walking owls were loaded down with satchels filled to the brim with pellets to be processed at the old pelletorium, while others were carrying loads of metal ores to be given to the rogue smiths as payment or material for new weapons.

Eric had lectured Flint about the ways of the previous inhabitants, and one particular note was that the leaders were completely incompetent. One of the many things that they had overlooked was the rich supply of metals in the cavesystems that interconnected the canyons and spiraled down some distance into the earth. The entire process of extracting the metals was arduous at best and deadly at worst because. Due to simple physical nature of design, owls are not made for breaking stone, no matter what kind of tools they are given. Nonetheless, some of the few thinkers of the Pure Ones like Eric had devised a tool based on the old Othren pickaxe. It was small enough for an owl to wield but made to be purposely heavy for its size. However, instead of having a long handle, it was attached to the end of a lightweight chain.

This is where the dangerous part would come in. The owl using the tool would fly up to full speed while carrying the tool by the chain. Once approaching the wall, the owl would jerk away at at the right angle to hurl the pick of the tool into the stone wall. If all was done right, it would chip away a large portion of stone and perhaps even dislodge the piece of ore in question. However, the process took a fair degree of mastery so none of the moonblinked owls could do it. Instead, it was left to the captured non-tytos to undertake this dangerous task. Altogether, it was not rare for something to go wrong and an owl end up impaled by his or her own tool.

Fortunately, though, the cave system was indescribably vast, and rich seams of ores were exposed on the walls, so the mining owls were permitted a very large, open area to work and not much extensive digging was required.

Observing this, though, was not the reason that Flint and his squadron were being lead by their commanding officer. Instead, they were taken through another small canyon that branched off the main one and were lead down a path to a widened hub were three small ravines like the one they were walking through met.

Stationed on rocky outcroppings above were two owls guarding the area. Because there were such a high number of owls not loyal to the Pure Ones, security was tight, but there was an additional reason for the security.

In this hub, there was access to a small cave system that was separate to the massive one where the ores are extracted. It was only about two or three small cavities, each three wingspans in size on average, but with narrow passages wide enough for an owl to squeeze through from one room to another.

Inside, guarding the first passage, were three Pure Ones, but one came out to greet Corporal Bennett.

The guard saluted him and asked, "Hello Sir, I have two owls ready for you like you requested."

"Very good, soldier. Please bring them out." Corporal Bennett stated flatly.

"Right away. One thing though," The soldier on guard duty paused for a moment for Corporal Bennett to nod and approve before stating something more. When he did, the soldier continued. "The two that I will be allocating you directly disobeyed their overseer and rebelled against us. They were punished, but if you could ensure that they receive a very good beating, their overseer would be quite appreciative. He made it quite clear, actually."

"Don't worry. Bring them on out."

The soldier nodded and entered back into the first chamber of the cave. A few minutes passed as he and his subordinates sifted through the two dozen or so detained non-tytos and brought out two Barred owls.

"They look like two big walking pine cones." Eilwyn jokingly whispered to the entire group in particular.

The entire group softly laughed in the churring owl laughter.

They did look odd, though. Flint commented to himself. They certainly did not look as good in the face or on the wings as the white faces and soft tan primaries the species of Tytos.

The two owls were bound at the wings, legs, and beak with thick vines taken from the Forest Kingdom of Ambala to the east.

Looking on with interest, the fledglings were not quite sure what they were going to do, but judging from the context of what the guard said, they would be hurting these owls somehow. Their questions were soon answered by their corporal, just as they had learned that they would.

"Squadron. Break up into two lines. Aves, you will be the first in the line on the left, Alabaster, you will be the first on the right."

The fledglings did as ordered, and Flint ended up fourth of fifth in the line on the right. Each of the two lines were then directed to stand front to back facing one of the two tied up Barred owls.

Once done, Corporal Bennett gave his underlings one last set of instructions. "You who are in the front, you will go up and strike the impure owl ahead of your line. You will then move to the back of the line. The next one is to do the same thing and so on. When whoever is in front currently goes a second time, that is one cycle. Whichever line cycles the most time in two minutes wins. Ready! Begin!"

Each of the fledglings was only standing two steps away from one of the Barred owls. Aves had hesitantly crossed this gap and with equal reserve, looked into the eyes of the Barred owl and uttered silently, "I'm sorry." before lofting a short distance into the air and striking him across the face with cuffed talons.

Meanwhile in the other line, Alabaster had already quite viciously raked her claws across the chest of her target and Eilwyn was already halfway through a midair kick.

Flint's turn was rapidly approaching, and he was quite excited. He didn't quite know how he was going to attack because he had never actually tried beating another owl. The fledgling in front of him, Kail, was now facing his turn, and he did not falter. Suddenly, it was time for Flint to attack.

He quickly jumped forward with an assist from his fledging wings, cocking back a leg and cuffing his talons into a fist.

There was a split second where the bludgeoned owl laying in pain on the ground made terrified eye contact with Flint, and he nearly hesitated, but he carried through and slammed his cuffed talons against the owl's ribs.

What a rush of adrenaline it was! It felt incredible to hold power over another owl.

Flint quickly scurried to the back of the line and waited the short time for his turn come around again. It did, and this time, there was not the slightest hint of hesitation on his part.

But it was over so quickly, and he was forced to the back of the line again to eagerly anticipate his next time around. This continued for a short time, only about a minute, and each time around became shorter as whatever qualms Flint and his comrades had were quickly overcome by the pleasures of injuring owls they mutually hate.

And each time around, they struck harder and harder in more vulnerable and sensitive areas to tap the resource of pleasure to be extracted from inflicting pain. Flint himself was not above striking in the facial regions as hard as he could muster. Needless to say, the beatings dealt by most of the fledglings long ago ceased being carried out solely because of orders.

Then suddenly, there was a sharp cry the Barred owl that was being brutalized by the line Flint was not in. "Please! Please Stop!" He had been winded by one of the first blows and had been struggling for the past minute to regain his breath so he could beg for mercy.

Eveline, who had been next to strike him, faltered in her approach and took a hard tumble, granting the owl a few more precious seconds free from the next strike.

"Please! Mercy!"

Flint having heard the first cry for help and knowing very well what it was, ignored it. It wasn't until he had already broken two of the other owl's ribs that the reality of the situation had set in.

There was dead silence for several moments as Flint's comrades had stopped everything they were doing and were in a state of disorder.

"I Did Not Order You To Stop! Continue! Continue!" Corporal Bennett bellowed at the top of his lungs.

There was another few moments of disorder while those who were going to obey scrambled to figure out the order in which they were to continue. Altogether, Millen, Alabaster, Eilwyn, Kail, and Flint were the five who were going to obey.

However, Cyndermore physically stopped Eilwyn which was enough to bring him to his senses, and Flint choked up at the last second when his target cringed and reared away from him.

The entire process had come to a halt and was not going to continue.

"Get Over Here! NOW!" Their corporal ordered in a tone harsher and louder than any had conceived possible.

They all complied in great fear without uttering a single word. The punishments for such disobedience were severe, and all but maybe Millen, Alabaster, and Kail would receive them.

Corporal Bennett was going to enact the punishments immediately after the two Barred owls were dragged away. After all, you would not want to give the impure owls the wrong impression, would you?

The fledglings were to stand silently in line as the two beaten and bloodied owls were helped back into the chamber in the cave they were being held in just a few minutes earlier. While this was transpiring, Flint could not tear his eyes away from their broken forms and question his very sense of being for having enjoyed injuring them so.


	16. Tyto's First Blood

Tonight was the night, this was the evening that Flint was to fly for the first time. How the thought exhilarated him; how he was so excited. He was sixty five days old this evening, and over half his life now had been spent with the Pure Ones.

He was as devoted to the Union of Purity as ever, and he held no hard feelings against it or Corporal Bennett for delaying his first flight along with the nine other fledglings in his squadron. They had disobeyed an order when they had broken command and stopped pummeling the two Barred owls. As punishment on top of the normal allotted discipline of hard physical training for 48 hours strait and other unpleasant things, every owl in Flint's squadron was denied permission to learn to fly for a week - an eternity to impatient fledglings. Minus what was directly ordered by their superiors such as stretching and exercising of the wings and associated muscles, any of the normal behavior for fledglings was denied.

No wing wing assisted jumps, no attempted glides, no anything related to flight. Those were the orders until four days ago, at which point, the punishment was lifted and Flint and his comrades were permitted to begin flight training.

The entire squadron on average being older than the normal age of first fledging, performed remarkably well on their first clumsy attempts to jump from the ground onto a rock above and then glide back down. Still, their first fledgings were more or less what would be expected for their age. There was an exception though.

Flint was a remarkable flier, and only because of the direct orders of Corporal Bennett did he actually not fly away immediately. First flights were to be observed by higher ranking officers so they could personally tap the owls that they wish to be under their command.

Every owlet hoped one day to be tapped by the elite squadrons - the Nyra Annihilators being the first most desired. Most however, will simply be placed into subdivided squadrons in one of the several divisions. It will be a bittersweet moment, because in all likelihood, Flint and his comrades will be separated when they are placed into their different assigned positions.

Still, they had at least this one grand time of first flight ahead of them.

The entire squadron had gathered on a path at the edge of a cliff that dropped down into the main St. Aegoleous canyon that was at least one hundred feet wide and averaged seven hundred deep. Standing at the very top of the canyon with four other squads for a grand total of fifty fledglings, Flint and his comrades stood at attention in a line with Corporal Bennett standing in front of them. The other squadrons did the same, so there was one solid line of fifty owls awaiting their turn for flight.

Flint's squadron was situated in the exact middle of the line, and the first flights were progressing from left to right. Altogether, Flint could have been more unfortunate and been all the way to the right, but he would be watching twenty owlets fly their first flight from beginning to end before he would get to fly his own.

The fourth owlet to fly her first flight was called forward by her corporal who was standing at the rim of the canyon. She marched slowly forward as all before and after her had been ordered. She stopped at her corporal's side. He nodded, and at her own discretion, she tilted forward and glided off the cliff.

Her flight was partially obscured to Flint because of the curvature of the terrain, but the officers perched on the other side of the canyon could see her perfectly. Among them were the division commanders and their set of officers. Stryker and Uglamore, the two top lieutenants of the Pure Ones army were present too. But, low and behold, the High Tyto sat perched authoritatively above them all. Flint had not noticed him there earlier, but he felt a sudden surge of motivation to perform well, which only added to the tension of awaiting his turn.

So awed by his leader's presence, Flint did not notice that Eric had perched next to the High Tyto and was talking with him.

"That is not possible." The High Tyto in his purposely rough and gravelly voice replied to Eric's suggestion.

Eric replied thoughtfully. "That was what I believed at first, but I have come to a point that I cannot rationalize as coincidence what I have seen, and could not with clear conscience keep the information from you."

The High Tyto grumbled slightly in an unpleasant tone. "You are wrong, and to say otherwise is to accuse my Nyra of being blatantly wrong of something she so clearly saw."

"I agree the logistics of his existence are in question." Eric flatly replied, taking no fear from the High Tyto's veiled threat. "However, why risk being wrong; think of the ramifications of if I am right. It would only take an investment of five minutes, at most, and you stand to gain a valuable assets that otherwise might go untapped. And remember, we once thought that a black Barn owl was not possible, but that has been proven otherwise."

Eric always had a way of logically rationalizing his desires in such a way to make them appealing to any other creature, and that was exactly what he was doing at this moment, though he was doing it for what he believed to be the High Tyto's and the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones' own good. Had he been any other owl, he would have been flying in dangerous airspace, as the saying goes. However, the High Tyto knew that Eric was simply doing what he felt was important, and that the old owl would never defy his leadership.

In the days the High Tyto was still known by his real name, Kludd, it was he, Eric, who trained and prepared him for his battle with the old High Tyto who had grown weak of gizzard and resolve for the Pure Ones' future. That ceremonial battle for leadership ended with the death of the previous High Tyto, and gave rise to Kludd Most Pure, Leader of the Tytonic Union. Though the High Tyto was not the kind of owl to show any kindness for previous help, Eric was indirectly responsible for his rise to power, and Kludd repaid the act by overlooking some of the small things that Eric might do. However, this was turning into no small thing.

"Do not question me again." The High Tyto ordered harshly and said nothing else.

"Very well." Eric replied, hiding his frustration with his leader. "I am wrong, but I simply want to clarify that I was advising you what I believed to be best, as always my Tyto most Pure. I pray that my beliefs have not lost respect in your eyes."

The High Tyto replied in his normal, non-reprimanding tone. "Your knowledge is still valuable; however, do not press this further."

"I shall remain silent."

The High Tyto and his mate were the only two owls living that Eric would submit to, excluding Amelia of course. She can still tongue lash him into submission just like the first day they met, but that is a story for another time because a very important moment for Flint was approaching.

It had seemed an eternity before Eveline to Flint's immediate left was called upon for her flight by Corporal Bennett who was now standing at the canyon rim.

As she marched forward, Flint could hear her heart beating progressively faster. She reached the lip of the canyon and passed a discrete look to Corporal Bennett who had done the same to her. Taking a deep breath, she lifted off.

Being a week younger than Flint, making her fifty-seven days old, she was just old enough to be fledgling. But this was a tremendous first leap for her, and it must have been terrifying.

Altogether, she performed miserably, but at least she managed to reach the landing point on the other side of the canyon unlike one of the first fledglings who nearly fell to his death. After tumbling head over talons for a long distance, he finally recovered and crash landed at the bottom of the canyon. Needless to say, his prospects for a good recruitment are grim.

"Flint." Corporal Bennett called out his name.

At the call of his name, Flint's heart skipped a beat and his mouth immediately dried out. It was his time.

He progressed with great dignity over to his corporal. As he neared, the true depth of the canyon came into view, and Flint's anxiety escalated.

The depth was monolithic in scale, and the width was the same; the canyon was massive.

He reached the canyon edge and looked down, feeling weak in the legs and, woefully enough, in the wings too.

Corporal Bennett gave Flint the signal to go ahead, and Flint paused for a moment to take in a deep breath to steady himself. He lifted his wings and prepared to take a gentle glide down from the cliff, but then something clicked. All the fear in him left, and he just 'felt' how he was supposed to fly.

Tilting forwards off the edge of the cliff, he tucked his wings in and entered a steep descent. Diving at blinding speed his belly feathers were just inches from the vertical wall of stone.

There was a frantic yell from Corporal Bennet above, screeching "Pull Up! Pull UP!".

Flint was approaching speeds close to a diving falcon as he neared the ground, so he did agree that it was time to pull out of his dive.

Spreading his wings, Flint pulled a painfully tight one hundred and eighty degree turn, the lowest point of which was only about twenty feet from the ground. He then brought his wings back, close to his sides, and spun around rapidly as he regained altitude. Continuing his spin while performing a reverse barrel role, Flint perfectly executed two inverse corkscrews and began power stroking to regain speed to reach the ledge where he was to land.

The flight felt so good, it was so indescribably exhilarating that Flint did not want it to end. Just ten feet below the cliff lip, he heaved his wings as hard as he could and accelerated upwards.

Now well above the ledge, Flint pulled back and began a belly out loop. He then rolled midflight and performed another belly out loop, completing a perfect inverse figure eight. While looping through it a few more times, Flint fought with great valor to quell the urge to laugh with pure joy. Fortunatelly for his dignity, he won and, after looping through the loop several more times, he terminated the aerobatics and sped downwards before terminating his first flight and landing with several tremendous strokes to slow his descent.

Dust hung in the air from the young owl's landing as the fledglings who had already and two overseeing officers looked on stupefied.

"Incredible..." One of the highly disciplined officers awed, unable to keep his thoughts to himself.

Flint grinned widely and looked up at the officers that were perched above, hoping to catch the same look of awe on them.

Some were talking to each other, others were just looking at him. Sadly, Flint could not see the High Tyto, not that he would have been able to tell what his expression was anyway. He always wore a large metal helmet to mask his face that was mutilated during his rise to power.

"Please get in line." One of the officers on the ledge with Flint ordered.

In a euphoric state, Flint lined up next to Eveline and cast a glance down the row. Much to inflate his ego that was already bloated at the moment, several of the fledglings who had performed well were giving Flint _very_ envious glares. That only amused him and made him feel even better about himself.

The second half of the first flights seemed to take much shorter than the first half, and once they were concluded, the observing officers lofted down from their high perch and landed on the ledge where the fledglings hand ended up on. Sadly to Flint though, the High Tyto had other plans and Flint saw him flying away, down the length of the canyon.

There was a reverent silence as the officers quietly paced the length of the line. Finally, one spoke.

"Which one of you is the owlet that flew that magnificent first flight?"

"I am, Sir." Flint answered confidently, knowing that he could be the only possible choice.

Had the other fledglings not been standing at attention, their envious glares alone would have been strong enough to possibly kill him.

"That is right. You are." The officer stated. "Now, please join me above." He smiled. "That is, if you are up the the flight."

"Yes, Sir. I am." Flint replied and lofted up into the air, reveling in the great speed of flight.

Flint landed on another ledge about one hundred feet up, and the officer along with Eric landed a moment later.

Bubbling over with pride, Flint eagerly anticipated what this owl had to say.

"Young one. Your name is Flint, correct?"

"Yes Sir."

"Do you realize how well you just flew?"

Flint grinned widely. "Yes."

The owl responded with a half smile. "I suppose you do. Now Flint." He paused and became serious. "I am the battalion head of the first division. I take orders directly from Stryker and Uglamore, there are no owls between us in the chain of command. That being said, I hope you realize the rarity and honor it is for me to approach a fledgling such as yourself and personally select you as a new member of this division."

Flint suddenly became very serious as well, though his voice's tone still held excitement. "Yes Sir."

"Good." The officer replied. "Now, the formal indoctrination will take place tomorrow as like for the other fledglings and I-" He was cut off by Eric who had landed next to him.

"He should have a special ceremony. And it should be tonight." Eric stated in a hard tone.

This took the officer off guard and he turned to look at Eric. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Eric replied, not accepting an incompetent response.

The officer was still trying to wrap his head around what had been requested when he asked, "Well... Okay... Do you have an owl that is personally close to him to use for the ceremony then?"

"No." Eric replied. "But old customs say that any owl can be used."

"I believe that is right." The officer said, still wary about the proposition of Flint having his special ceremony. "But do you not think he is too young?" He asked.

Eric narrowed his eyes at the owl. "Do not assume that I would ask about something of such great importance without thinking of all the factors. He is ready, I know for certain."

"I am sorry, but I do not understand. Why now? Why so soon and with such little advanced warning?" The officer replied cautiously.

"His age is irrelevant. He is ready, and this shall be a valuable experience for him that will ensure such an excellent flier achieves a high rank." Eric then added to himself glancing towards the location the High Tyto flew away, _"And I have a point to make."_

"Okay..." The officer said, contemplating the entire proposition. "Well, it is settled then." He turned to look at Flint. "It looks like tonight you will have your Tytonic Union of Pure Ones Special Initiation Ceremony then. You can call it, your TUPSI."

Flint grinned excitedly, ignorant of what this Special Ceremony is. "I am ready." He stated firmly.

* * *

><p>Flint and Eric were perched in a small antechamber of a cave. Barely illuminated by the occasional flicker of a fire through a small tunnel leading to a conjoined room, it was very dark. So dark that even owls had difficulty seeing. Perhaps the near absolute darkness was a fitting analogy for what Flint will soon face, for the following moments will forever shape the course of his life.<p>

Being curious as to what this upcoming ceremony was, Flint asked Eric what will be happening. "If I may ask, Sir, what is this 'Special Ceremony'."

Sternly, Eric replied. "I cannot tell you, Flint, because you will be judged on how willingly and quickly you commit yourself to the actions involved with this ceremony. Once you walk through the tunnel into the main portion of this small cave, you will be told, and your reaction will be of great consequence. You must show no hesitation in doing what you are told."

"You don't need to worry." Flint replied confidently. "I will do my absolute best, Sir."

"Good." Eric stated. "But keep these words of wisdom in mind. What they ask of you may be extremely difficult, but you must accomplish it at all costs. I know how much you hate your parents for abandoning you, and I want you to focus that hatred to succeed at your task."

"I will." Flint complied, then added, "At least they gave me something useful."

"Yes." Eric flatly stated. "Also, remember how evil and vile the non-tytos are. Remember that they are deserving of nothing good, and how they will deceive you to steal from and kill you if you give them the chance. Corporal Bennett has done a very good job at teaching you to hate them. Remember those lessons and put them to good use, and this task shall be easy."

The last word carried a long, ominous echo. As it trailed off into silence, there was an unearthly ringing of a gong. And Eric nodded at Flint

It was time.

Flint turned and entered through the narrow passageway leading into the next room of the cave. Lit by two burning torches, there were dull beams of moonlight shining into the center of the cave. In the light, lay a Great Horned owl who's wings, legs, and talons were bound. She was hardly older than Flint, perhaps just a few weeks older. Strewn along the wall of the cave were about a dozen owls, Amelia and the officer from earlier included.

He stopped a short distance from exact center as he had been told to do earlier and a Barn owl began speaking in a strong, resonating voice.

"Tonight, you will grow from being a chick to a true Pure One. Your task is simple, take the life of this impure owl and find your place in our ranks. For honor, for power, for Purity."

A cold pulse shot through Flint when he heard the order. _I am going to kill?_ The though struck Flint dumb.

Somehow, though, he subconsciously remembered what Eric had just told him about how his reaction would be judged, and he managed to hide his initial shock.

A frenzied look of terror had filled the eyes of the young Great Horned owl when she heard the order and when Flint subsequently began carefully pacing the fifteen feet over to her.

As he walked, Flint took a purposely slow pace as he tried to figure out what he should do. There was no way he was going to disobey the order and bring scorn, shame, and discipline upon himself. He simply could not let that happen. But then again, was he actually ready to kill this owl as he was ordered to do? Certainly, he would not hesitate if on the battlefield against a foe, but that is different. This Great Horned owl was no threat, and was quite vulnerable.

Halfway there - With all at stake, Flint could ruin his future with the Pure Ones by choking on this task.

Nearing his target, he made up his mind. He was going to kill the owl, the question now is how?

He had never killed before, not that he lacked an imagination on how to kill. Certainly, many scenarios played through his head about how to end this owl's life, but which one was the most practical.

Three fourths of the way there - Flint remembered Eric's words about summoning his hatred. Somehow, doing so at this moment felt awkward, clumsy, and much more difficult than normal. But by the time he reached her, he had managed to reap the anger that had grown from the seeds of hatred that had been growing in him since his parents abandoned him and he was indoctrinated into the Pure Ones.

Flint took a deep breath as his shadow fell over the Great Horned owl. She turned her head up to him crying and begged, "Please. Please have mercy."

Something in Flint realized that what he was going to do was wrong, but looked her in the eyes and remembered what Eric had told him. He closed his eyes and inhaled as he focused upon her the buried hatred he felt for his parents. He imagined doing every inconceivably terrible thing to the owl that he had been encouraged by Corporal Bennett and Eric to imagine doing to his parents for revenge.

His gizzard gave a small lurch, and Flint suddenly felt different on many levels.

In the space of those few seconds, he had placed the whole of his hatred on her and any reservations about killing her vanished. He was ready for blood.

The Great Horned owl wilfed in fear as Flint swung a set of claws across her face, tearing one of her eyes open while gouging deep gashes in her face. She yelped in agony and tried to roll away, but Flint restrained her when he grabbed her head and began squeezing with as much force as he could muster.

The feeling of power this gave was indescribable; there was some lustful joy in watching this owl's face contort in extreme pain and fear as her head was being squeezed with intolerable pressures.

Flint lifted her head off the ground and slammed it back down, repeating the process several times.

Stepping away for a moment to bask in the pain he had inflicted on the owl, Flint's heart was beating with great vigor and he felt so alive while he was desiring to inflict more pain before killing her.

By this point, his blood lust was peaking as he gleefully watched her cry out in agony, too stunned to move. Flint lofted a short distance into the air and slammed back down onto her, bearing his sharp claws out to sink them into her internal organs as if she were a prey item.

Desperate to escape Flint's terrible grip, she tried thrashing her bound legs and talons as an enraged Flint restrained her further by digging both sets of talons farther into her stomach.

He could feel his talons in her flesh and morbidly enjoyed the feeling as he dug in farther. By this time, she had stopped struggling and lay limp knowing her fate.

Now was the time for the kill. Flint tore his talons free from her stomach, using no discretion for the damage and pain caused as they shredded through her flesh. Using his a now freed up set of talons, Flint then began to crush her windpipe in the grip of his talons.

Crying profusely, she gasped for breath as Flint squeezed it from her. But his anger was not quelled. He squeezed tighter still and his claws dug into her throat.

In one last act of fury, Flint pulled upwards and tore her esophagus in half, leaving her throat splayed open. She let out an unearthly screech before her airway was severed. Her face gave a short look of terrified disbelief masked in intense pain and her gaze fell upwards, into an unblinking, expressionless stare.

Flint released his grip on her then stepped off of her body. When his talons touched the floor, he stepped in some of her blood that was already pooling on the ground.

He felt almost a pride for his actions, and wished that the killing was not already over because he had rather enjoyed it. But the rush was slowing already, and the ecstasy that had been covering Flint's innate sense of morals was quickly dissipating.

There was a jagged rasp of fluid filled lungs collapsing in on themselves. The Great Horned owl's head rolled to catch Flint in the gaze of her one remaining eye. Slowly blinking, she beaked the word "Why?" The last image this owl ever saw was the face of her murderer. At this she died, with the two's gazes locked.

Flint could not break the locked stare he held with the owl he had just killed in cold blood. He was in utter shock. The anger quickly dissipated being replaced with a deep feeling of guilt and deathly sorrow that began creeping from his gizzard into the rest of his body until he felt like the embodiment of sin itself.

_"What have I done?" _Flint cried in his mind to himself, the revelation of the atrocity he had just committed being shown to him as if he had been standing in a pitch black cavern and was suddenly through into bright sunlight. In such a case, the light itself hurts the mode of sensing, in that case the eyes, in an infinitely less severe manor than how Flint's soul was wrought with agony with the illumination of what he committed.

Adjusting his stance, Flint slipped on the blood slicked stone underneath him and fell face first into the pool of blood. Scrambling to stand, Flint accidentally swallowed some of the fluid while he was getting to his talons.

He stood up. The cave was deathly silent as he broke his stare on the dead owl and looked up hoping for answers from the other owls in the room.

Blood was dripping from his feathers, and each drop resonated loudly in his ear slits. He began shaking, slowly at first. Flint then turned and looked at each and every other owl present, including Lieutenant Stryker himself, scanning their faces for answers to questions he did not know how to ask.

Flint's shaking expanded into what felt like an earthquake to him.

There he was standing, blood drenched, for all to see.

He was in too much shock to even react. The only thing he felt was a surreal feeling of _"I just did that. Glaux save me, I just did that."_

A wing gently wrapped around Flint and began guiding him away from the dead Great Horned owl. His gizzard clenched and he yarped a pellet. He then broke into a hysterical crying. Through the tears, he could tell that it was Eric guiding him to the antechamber that they had just been in. He sat him down on the ground reasonably well into the short tunnel to prevent him from being seen crying.

"Easy there Flint..." Eric comforted, faking tenderness with Flint in hopes that the fledgling would bawl and thus disgrace himself, "Everything's fine."

Flint looked up at him through tear filled eyes. The though, _"It could have been you. It could have been anyone."_ ran through his mind.

Through his hysteria, he could feel something awful. He could feel that he was covered with the Great Horned owl's blood from beak to talon.

No, he wasn't covered with it, he was drenched in it.

His gizzard seized again. He went through the motions of expelling a pellet, but nothing came. Instead, the feeling of guilt deepened to swallow him further into it's depth.

He could vaguely hear a conversation between Eric, who had reentered the other chamber, conversing with another owl.

"Stryker, you fool. He completed the ceremony well beyond what was expected."

Stryker swelled up to twice his size from anger, but managed to keep his tone under control until the last portion of the statement. "He performed poorly. Yes he killed the owl without hesitation, but you have seen how he reacted. It's pathetic. He is weak for shedding a single tear, let alone the hysterical racket he is making now."

Eric was livid now, "Did you just see that ceremony. It was one of the most vicious that I have ever seen, save for one."

Stryker was becoming progressively louder too, "I don't care what you have seen. I do not validate this as a special ceremony."

Flint cringed through tears at the thought that this ceremony will not be counted, and that he would be forced to participate in it again.

Eric was somehow managing to keep a somewhat calm tone as he spoke, "That is why I requested that you allocate those two hireclaws for the Ceremony. They were the ones who raised him and would have been ideal for the Tupsi."

_"Mum, Da," _he silently cried to himself. He realized what they would think of him for killing the Great Horned owl. He could see the looks of disgust on their faces, the terror in their eyes... _"Glaux, They knew I was going to act like this..." _He began shaking uncontrollably again, now knowing why his mother and father had left him.

Then, a second stark realization came to him. He knew he would have killed his parents also had they been alive and slated for the TUPSI. It was a sicking feeling, one that turned in to fear. Flint began questioning who he would kill and what it would take for him to do that.

"Ok, Flint. Your ceremony is not quite over yet. Try to compose yourself and stand up." His thoughts were broken by Amelia speaking in a cold tone.

Exerting himself as much as he could, he stood up and walked back into the main cave, fearing what he will be forced to do next. He looked over where the Great Horned owl had been, but all that was there were streaks of blood where her body had been dragged away. They lead to the mouth of the cave which was on the wall of a cliff. An owl was dragging the corpse, leaving deep pools of blood behind. Once he got to the cave's mouth, he pushed the body out.

Every muscle in Flint's gizzard cramped and he went into dry heaves, making loud retching sounds each time he did so.

Once again, the argument between Eric and Stryker heightened and came into Flint's consciousness.

"You see that right there?" Striker said in a cruel and hard tone, gesturing towards Flint with a wing, "The weakling can't even kill without remorse. Why should I accept him into the ranks?"

This time the officer from earlier stepped in and took Eric's side, "For all due purposes, this one is half the minimum age for special ceremonies. He's younger still than the High Tyto was when he did his. Plus this is the first time he has killed any creature ." His eyes narrowed, "His emotions should not play a role in this. Besides, he did manage to kill the target without any apparent apprehension or hesitation. And he seemed to quite enjoy it while he was doing so."

The emotional sea whose waves were breaking and smashing inside of Flint hit a new high of turbulence when Flint truly realized that he had actually enjoyed killing the owl to the point it was clearly visible. Flint heaved another round of dry heaves.

Ignoring the loud retching, Stryker seemed to be defeated. "Fine!" He snorted. "He will be recruited. But so help me _Retired Lieutenant Eric,_ if you dare bother me about him again, I **Will **place him on the front lines in our next confrontation. Understand?"

Eric stiffened, "I will not speak his name to you again."

"Good!" Stryker conceded.

Then, he walked over to Flint, who tried his best to compose himself. Stryker seemed as if he could care less about the ceremony, but muddled through it anyway. "Flint, your strength has been duly noted. Congratulations, you are now now an honorary Pure One. From this day forward, you shall be called Flintgrease."


	17. Stryker's Orders

'Flintgrease'. What a terrible name for any creature; an utterly unlikeable name it was. Had Flint, now it should be said Flintgrease, been in any other frame of mind, he would have been bemoaning that name. It was almost like Stryker chose that name simply to spite Eric, after all, many times, Barn owls, unlike the lower orders of Tytos, were allowed to keep their hatch names since they are the most privileged class of owl in the Pure Ones' ranks.

However, it serves Flintgrease credit that being upset about his new name was nowhere in his mind because all other thoughts had been blotted out by the guilt and aghast disbelief because of what he had just committed.

The night had progressed since Flintgrease's special ceremony and the moon was high in the sky. All the observers excluding a few had left to resume their various duties shortly after the end of the Special Ceremony. Eric had remained behind to confer with the officer from earlier concerning special placement for Flintgrease in the Pure Ones' ranks and after several minutes of prolonged argument over Flintgrease's true capabilities, Eric had flown out with great disgust.

Amelia, to much of her protest, had been requested to escort Flintgrease back to her and Eric's residence. Grudgingly, she complied and guided Flintgrease back.

He was a total wreck, unable to fly well, and nearly careening into obstacles because of his hysterical crying the entire trip. She was glad to be rid of him once they had arrived at their burrow and she had sent Flintgrease in.

The sight of him in such a weak and pathetic state only motivated her further to carry out something she had planned earlier. As such, she flew away while providing no emotional support or consolation to him.

It took her a few minutes to reach her intended destination, and once it entered into view, she could see that the owl she wished to speak with had already arrived as previously arranged.

She landed and saluted the Barn owl. "Lieutenant Stryker. I am sorry for the delay, but I had to bring the whelp back to the burrow. He was pathetic."

"Weakling." Stryker spat out in disgust speaking of Flintgrease.

"Agreed." Amelia replied in an equally disgusted tone. "I want nothing of him. Eric has become obsessed with him. Even should Flintgrease be who Eric says he is, I would want nothing to do with him. In that case should the High Tyto and Her Pureness discover that Eric and I have been harboring him, it would be our deaths."

Stryker gave a subdued snort, "Your mate could easily be accused of being a turnfeather for his actions. He has bypassed dozens of the Pure Ones' statutes by directly manipulating which corporal the owlet was placed under for training. Meanwhile, he has utterly disrupted that training by frequently removing the owlet from his squad to supposedly teach him something useful. Your mate has polluted the owlet's mind with useless information and bypassed me in arranging his special ceremony. Furthermore, he has barraged me with countless requests for me to 'Come see this incredible owlet'. Last I counted, he has made fifteen requests in the last week alone!" He then spat out, "Incredible, my butt feathers. While he might be a decent flier, that talent is made totally useless by his inability to kill without remorse."

"You are quite upset at him, aren't you?" Amelia stated as much as asked.

"Upset?" Stryker declared loudly then bristled his feathers. "Eric has been a total and utter nuisance since he got hold of that chick and his sister the black Barn owl, wherever she is now. He has been an insistent pain, asking without end that I either come see this chick myself or give him time to tell the High Tyto about him. I saw strait through his deception and knew not to give him the chance to trick the High Tyto and his mate, Nyra Most Pure, into believing his lies."

Amelia was borderline insulted by Styker's harsh attitude toward Eric. Granted, yes, she had perhaps spoken harshly to him on occasion, but that was her right to do as his mate. In an low, edgy tone, Ameila replied. "Do you think our leaders to be fools? Why did you not let him simply show Flintgrease to them and let them decide? That would have ended everything then and there, and we would not be having this conversation, now would we?"

Stryker gave Amelia a deadly glare. "Watch what you say and how you say it when you speak with me. I am not in a forgiving mood, _ever._" He growled, paused a moment, then continued. "But if you want answers, here they are. Ever since your mate lost his command post to old age, he has seemingly not understood that he no longer has the authority associated with it. I was the one to replace him, and I am the one who wields the power he once has. However, he has blatantly disgraced me by circumventing my command on countless occasions!" Stryker's tone was becoming very fierce. "He refuses to let go of his power, and he believes me to be a weakling and let him keep it! This incident with Flintgrease is just the latest in a long line of unacceptable infractions, and I refuse to tolerate it any longer." Stryker's long winded rant continued. "There are very good reasons that I forbade him under threat of punishment not to speak to anyone in the chain of command other than myself. I directly ordered him to not speak with the High Tyto and Nyra unless I specifically gave him permission. Yet he disobeyed that order on this very day and approached the High Tyto concerning that weakling Flintgrease! It is high time that Eric was awakened from his delusions of grandeur, and that will first be accomplished by taking his little whelp of an apprentice away."

Not impressed by Stryker's obsession with power, Amelia almost regretted saying yes when she was ordered here by Stryker between Flintgrease's first flight and special ceremony. But there was little that she could have done otherwise. "Why do you need me here then? Why not just take the owlet away and leave it at that?"

Stryker's eyes narrowed. "Believe me, that is what I intend on doing. However," He continued in a calmer voice. "As much as I do not like to admit, Eric's work is important to the Union's survival, and I cannot risk him becoming incapacitated due to disciplinary actions for doing something foolish such as circumventing my orders again. I know that you are the only owl who can bend his will, and I need you to do everything in your power to ensure that he does not try to reclaim Flintgrease as his apprentice. He is to forget that the owlet ever existed."

"I will try my best." Amelia flatly replied. Things have been rough between her and her mate for the past few months because of the deaths of their children, but still she did not want to see anything bad happen to him.

"Good." Stryker stated."

"And you will not let Eric know that I am involved in this?" Amelia asked, though it was equally as much a statement.

"The only way the secret will get out is if you do not keep your own beak sealed."

Amelia nodded, "As your subordinate, I thank you."

Striker glared at her, "You need not thank me. I am doing this to put your foolish mate in his place. He has forgotten that he is under my command, and I intend on ensuring he remembers. You have only aided me with your compliance." Amelia stiffened, but kept her objections to herself. "I will send someone to retrieve Flintgrease later tonight."

"I will be ready. Long live purity." She gave a salute with her wing, and Stryker seemed appeased. He lifted off and Amelia returned back to the hollow.

* * *

><p>An hour had passed since the conversation between Amelia and Stryker. Eric had since returned to their burrow and Flintgrease was in a foggy daze. He still could not cope with what he had just committed, what he had just done. <em>"I killed her."<em> The words repeated through his head. _"I Killed Her."_

Eric was working with the fire, attempting to teach Flintgrease a lesson on the difference between the types of coals. Grabbing one with a set of fire tongs, he asked a question, "This coal here, Flintgrease. Tell me what kind it is. Is it one of the good bonk coals or is it lesser quality?"

Lethargically looking at the coal, Flintgrease's mind was filled with the intense sensations and memories of the ceremony earlier. Those moments had been engraved in his mind and were as indelible as an image chiseled into stone. He saw only the dead body of the Great Horned owl in his mind's eye. It just did not seem right to go about his normal life after having killed the Great Horned owl.

"Flintgrease! Pay attention!" Eric snapped at him. "Get used to killing. The owl was impure, it was your right to exercise control of life and death over it and I will not have you feeling sympathy over the death of a worthless owl."

Flintgrease was very complacent with Eric's harsh tones and tried his best to dismiss the thoughts from his head. "I'm sorry..." he hazily replied, "You were asking about the coal? Ugh... It is... a Class B coal, Right?"

Eric kept his face hard and remained silent as he lowered the tongs back into the fire. Flintgrease was afraid he had missed the answer, but Eric finally coldly replied, "Good, you are right." He pulled a second coal out of the fire. But before he had the chance to ask Flintgrease what quality it was, they were interrupted by an owl landing outside the den.

The two watched as a lower officer in the Pure Ones ranks entered, but Amelia, off in the corner of the hollow, kept her eyes trained on Eric as the officer began to speak.

"Sir, I have been ordered to retrieve this owlet and escort him to his appropriate training." He said to Eric, making a gesture towards Flintgrease.

"By whose orders, Sergeant?" Eric spat out in contempt.

"Stryker's, Sir." The owl replied with cool discipline in his tone. "He made it quite clear I was take this owl to his newly assigned training group where will receive a proper training."

"I will not allow it." Eric retorted, "He has already been assigned to the first division and their training systems. He will be receiving the best training that the Union has to offer."

"This is not debatable. I have been ordered directly from Stryker to take this owlet. If you have a problem with these orders, then you must see Stryker himself."

Puffing up his feathers into a threatening pose, Eric was tempted to throw this owl out of the hollow. He soon realized that would only make things worse, so he conceded to the order.

"Where is Stryker? I must speak to him about this at once."

"I received my orders from him near that rock formation, the one called the Beak of Glaux, but I don't know if he is still there," the sergeant said before affixing his attention onto Flintgrease who was wide eyed and bewildered, "You are to follow me."

Flintgrease gave a nervous nod before giving an equally nervous glance at Eric who returned it with a look of assurance. The sergeant walked out of the opening and lifted off followed by Flintgrease. A few moments into the flight, Flintgrease finally managed to ask a question.

"Where are we going?" Flintgrease instantly regretted asking the question, for within a moment's notice, the sergeant had wheeled around and cuffed him on the head.

"Soldiers of the Pure Ones never ask questions. All they need do is obey." The owl screeched indignantly.

Managing to keep himself from losing his flight, Flintgrease kept a tight beak. He already knew the reasons to not ask questions, but it slipped out anyway.

They flew low through the canyons instead of taking the route over them and straight to their destination. The reasons, whatever they were, were beyond Flintgrease, but he didn't ask questions. So they continued on flying through the canyons enveloped in silence, but shortly a quiet sound began to make itself heard. It was only audible as they flew past a small canyon that branched off of the main one. The sound was eery and gave Flintgrease a cold eery feeling in his gizzard. In owl language, it is called 'the creelies'.

The cause of the sensation was just quiet enough to not be understood, but it was definitively a mass recitation of some rhythmic piece of poetry. And just as quickly as it started as they neared an off branching canyon, it ended as they passed it and moved onward.

As time passed, Flintgrease realized that they were moving farther out from the center of the Pure Ones' territory in the canyonlands. They were still close, but the center of Union activity was well over a league away when he and the sergeant began to land.

Below Flintgrease saw about twenty owls all gripping a long piece of a log with their talons and beating their wings. It was an odd sight that created a tremendous amount of noise, but it came to an end when a nearby owl observing the sight bellowed an order in response to Flintgrease and the sergeant landing.

"I have another recruit for you, Corporal Travis," Flintgrease's escort said to the owl.

"Him?" He snorted, "He'd end up dead within a night's time. Stryker promised me he would send me a real owl tonight."

Flintgrease wilfed slightly at first, but stood as firm and tall as he possibly could.

"Stryker was absolutely clear that he wanted you to have _this_ owlet. Whatever happens to him is of no concern." The sergeant was as impassive as ever as he spoke of Flintgrease's potential demise.

"Very well. Just expect to come back tomorrow to pick up his remains."

Flintgrease took a nervous swallow as the sergeant lifted off. Immediately after, Corporal Travis turned and sneered to Flintgrease, "A young whelp like you won't last a day with us."

Standing there in silence, it was all Flintgrease could do to keep his legs from giving out from under him in fear.

The corporal continued, "Why are you covered in blood, Pure One?"

"It is from my Tupsi. I had it earlier tonight." Immediately after speaking, Flintgrease was cuffed in the gizzard by Corporal Travis.

Falling to the ground, Flintgrease heard a quiet whisper come from the other owl. "He won't last an hour." It went unnoticed by the corporal though.

"You dare address me improperly?" Corporal Travis asked in a very indignant tone, "Stand up and give me the respect I deserve as an officer in the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones."

The earlier events had completely defocused Flintgrease's attention. He was forgetting simple things that were reaction to him by now.

Laying on the ground, Flintgrease grunted slightly because his entire torso ached from the strain of standing up, but a delayed flash of anger surged through him and assisted him to stand at attention and speak. "Corporal, Sir. I participated in my Tytonic Union of Pure Ones Special Initiation earlier tonight, Sir."

In a massively sarcastic tone, the corporal mockingly declared, "Oh, Your Special? Well then you must think you are special because you have had your special, don't you? I bet that you, the fledgling whelp that you are, think that you must be so much better these owls that are thrice your age because you are special."

Flintgrease was so utterly bewildered by this owl's obsession over his special ceremony that he was left unsure how to respond. He barely managed to nervously utter out, "Sir... I... I... Don't understand..."

Corporal Travis scowled at Flintgrease for a moment, then in a deadly tone, spoke, "I was told a little bit about you, and I've seen your type before. You get in good with an officer and then request a transfer into the best squad out there." The corporal gave a disgusted grumble, "Stryker told me about how you were cutting our ranks, skipping everything hard just so you could advance yourself. Well I've got something to tell you; you got caught and you will have to pay for it."

Beyond bewilderment, Flintgrease was utterly baffled by what this owl was saying and he tried to convey his perplexity, "S..S. , I... don't understand what you are saying, I..."

Flintgrease was cut off by the Corporal crassly bellowing in great disgust, "Welcome to the real ranks, splat. You will now see the life of a true Pure One!"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Eric was enraged at Stryker and was arguing with him near the Beak of Glaux.<p>

"That owlet was under my protection! He was **Mine**!" Eric blared out loudly at Stryker.

Standing there with an angry look on his face, Styker barely let his counterpart finish before he began yelling. "That owlet is a Pure One subject to our discipline! He was only under your protection because you have broken untold many standards and codes of conduct. I let it slide because you were so pathetically amused by him, but now you are simply wasting him as a resource."

Eric gave a flustered grumble, "Wasting?" He said in a very exaggerated tone, "What I have taught him is invaluable. He know much about the flecks, fire..." He was cut off.

"I knew it!" Stryker screeched, "You would give out our most sensitive information to an owlet. He is a danger to us you idiot owl. I should have you killed for such blatant divulging of information!"

Puffing himself up to twice his size, Eric bellowed out indignantly, "Such essential knowledge should be shared so it is not lost should the bearer die! That was what I was doing with him, ensuring the knowledge's safety. Do you know what would happen should I, the sole possessor of our knowledge on Flecks, die?"

"You speak about knowledge like a Guardian. Continue to do so and we may just find out how well we get along without you. If you continue to defy me, we **will** find out."

Eric was taken aback by this combined threat and insult. For a Pure One to be compared to the Guardians in any way was one of the vilest, most contempt filled insults a Pure One may say to the other. With the addition of the threat, Eric fell into silence.

Stryker continued in a slightly more controlled manner, "Now, I have assigned your little obsession to a proper training squadron where he is safe from the influence of your teachings. There will be no cutting of physical training or combat practice for him to go have his mind polluted by you. He shall receive every thing that gives him the discipline a Pure One deserves."

"That is not true..." Eric broke off upon receiving a glare from Stryker.

"But now, he shall receive the strength, discipline, and skill that you had denied him by sullying his mind with empty notions. He shall see the life of a true Pure One. All he has seen and knows is the easy life that you have shown him. He is a Pure One that has lived his life in a cozy little nitch you have made for him and has not seen who we truly are."

Eric regained his levelheadedness, "I have given him everything that he deserved that I possibly could have given him. However, you have denied him his parents if he truly is-"

"Blasphemy!" Stryker screeched, cutting Eric off, "You would dare think such a thing about him after seeing his reaction at his TUPSI? It is insulting to the very union that you would think something like that of one so weak. If you as much as utter one more word about him or the blasphemy, I **Will **rip out your gizzard and shove it down your gullet! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!?"

The sheer vehemency of Stryker's screech and the threats held within left Eric, one of the hardest and most disciplined owls in the entire Union, almost yeepish. Somehow, though, he managed a nod and a resonate but yet still cautions, "Yes Sir."

And with that, Stryker had said enough and wanted no more to do with this owl. He bloated his feathers out and stood in a commanding posture, "Keep what I have said in mind. Now leave." His voice was cold and deadly.

Eric gave a definite nod and then quickly lifted off.

* * *

><p>"Heave those wings! Get into the air!" The bellowing of Corporal Travis rose through the night like surges of fire. "Heave, you worthless splats! Heave!"<p>

_He's insane! _Flintgrease thought dazedly to himself, _This log can't be moved. _For the past ten minutes the entire squadron had latched onto a log and frantically beat their wings in attempt to dislodge the large piece of wood and move it. His entire body was burning from the strain and he was now feeling disoriented from the extreme rigor involved.

The owl next to Flintgrease went limp and fell to the ground. Landing on his back, he was breathing rapidly and started coughing heavily. Only a few short moments passed before the Corporal swept through at a tremendous speed and slammed the owl with a large stick of wood. The impact was enough to flip the owl over onto his stomach where he quickly fluttered his exhausted wings and managed to get back onto the log.

"Harder! Harder! Or I will take the pleasure of beating the splat out of you, you filthy gulls."

The combined insult and threat sent another surge of anger through Flintgrease and he managed to push himself a little further. It seemed to take the same effect on the other owls and the thunderous sound of wings fluttering got louder. For one brief moment, Flintgrease could almost swear he could feel the log move slightly, but the feeling passed and the entire squadron's wingbeats lessened in intensity.

Corporal Travis sighed a deep, aggravated grumble, but kept his hard, drilling tone when he screeched, "Pure Ones, Desist."

Nearly every owl that had been pulling on the log simply tumbled off out of pure fatigue and not did not care about a rough landing below. Flintgrease was one of them and he, like the rest of the formation, lay splayed out on the ground, chest heaving from intense gasping for air. He felt as if he could not take in enough air with each desperate gulp and his heart was beating hard enough his entire breast was hurting.

He was too exhausted to think, but through the intense pounding of his heart that blurred his vision, Flintgrease was dimly aware that there were owls not laying on the ground. It irritated him to no end that some of the owls were able to stand while he was immobilized with exhaustion. But he knew better. He knew that these owls were well over six months old and he was about two, however it still set his gizzard churning.

The entire squadron was granted two precious minutes to recover before they continued their training. Once the time passed, the corporal bellowed another order. "Weaklings! Get back on your feet!"

Every owl snapped to attention and stood. Flintgrease barely managed to do so in time to avoid incurring the corporal's wrath.

"You are to fly from here to the ridge that holds the library and back as fast as you can. You will fly low through the canyons. I will be flying behind and act as _motivation_ for those who fall behind." The word motivation sounded slightly different from the rest of the barked order in the fact that it was almost pronounced enthusiastically, as if the corporal was hoping for a chance to act as _motivation_.

Lifting off, the squadron of owls quickly began to accelerate towards their destination, and Flintgrease managed to keep close to the middle of the group. But he slowly began to fall behind. By the time he had reached the library, he was close to being last. They performed a semi circle around the library and Corporal Travis took a short detour to speak with one of the guards perched on a nearby ledge. They returned to the location the log was at and had a whole six seconds of rest before Corporal Travis landed and bellowed out another order.

"Congratulations," He sneered sarcastically. "You have finished the first of twenty laps. Continue through nineteen more times at your highest speed and be sure the guard at the library sees you as you go through your laps. If you decide to skip or fly slowly, he will know and will report directly to me, resulting in immediate discipline on the entire squadron."

Flintgrease was nauseated with weariness but was forced to take flight. Somehow, though, he managed to remain close to the middle of the group as they progressed through the first six or seven laps around Pure One territory. But each lap was progressively difficult and by the tenth lap he was beginning to fall behind. On the eleventh lap, Flintgrease was exhausted and his wings were starting give.

_I have to keep going. _He thought insistently to himself through deep puffs of breath. Ahead, he could see several of the owls in his squadron looking back at him, _I am not going to let these owls be better than me._

But Flintgrease's determination was futile. Only about fifty wingbeats later, he was unable to continue flying and he simply fell out of the air. Fortunately, he was already flying low so the fall was only about five feet.

Having hit the ground and his forward momentum causing him to tumble and roll a short distance through the dust, Flintgrease found himself feeling woozy and was aching over his entire body. It took him a few moments to regain his sense of direction, but when he did, he found that he was laying on his back with his wings spread out flat on the ground. His first flight had been so exhilarating, so freeing, but now he was left dreading getting back into the air. He felt so weak.

Several of the owls that he had seen ahead of him landed around him a few seconds later. For one brief moment, Flintgrease felt a sense of relief hoping they would help him, but the hopes were soon shattered.

"Hey, hey." One of the owls churred, "Look at this, we got a tumbler."

Another owl churred also, "Hey weakling, Get up!" Flintgrease was infuriated by these taunts, but two of the owls were standing on his wings and holding him down.

"Ya, Get Up!" Yet another owl chimed in an annoying tone and gave Flintgrease a swift kick to the head.

He cringed as a rush of anger and pain surged through him and both the feelings were intensified when one of the owls tore out one of his newly fledged tail feathers.

"Get off me!" Flintgrease screeched.

"Make us!" Several of the others mocked back, giving Flintgrease several more kicks to the sides and head.

His rage was boiling and he was ready to kill any of these owls he could get his talons onto - or better yet into. With the continued pummeling that he was receiving adding to his fury, Flintgrease could feel strength gathering in him. He could imagine the disemboweled corpses of these owls, their necks broken, and many other hideous injuries adorning their dead bodies. And with each imagining, he pressed harder against the owls holding him down. Suddenly, everything went red for Flintgrease and a muffled screeching fell upon his earslits.

Flintgrease then found himself in a threat posture giving off a long, forbidding hiss. He had no recollection of breaking free from the other owls' grips, but he could clearly see several of them standing a couple of wingspans in front of him locked to the ground in yeepishness.

"I dare you to attack me! I dare you, Cowards! Who's weak NOW? You come near me and I'll kill another of you!" Flintgrease screeched out at the top of his lungs, aghast at what he heard coming from his own beak. _What am I _saying? He asked himself in his mind. There was a immobilizing fear that set into his mind, _I'll kill another!?_ The words flashed into his mind like lightning in the night and he quickly looked down.

There, he saw the limp body of one of the owls that had been pummeling him seconds earlier. Head askew, it was gripped at the neck by Flintgrease's talons. A rush of terror filled Flintgrease as he stared at the owl's face whose eyes were sealed shut in a grimace of pain.

Looking up, Flintgrease saw an owl wearing a helmet and battleclaws had landed between him and the other owls. He quickly let his grip go, letting the owl's head and neck flopped to the ground and creating a sickening impact sound. He then quickly stumbled backwards several steps before tripping and winding up on his side staring at the lifeless corpse of the dead Barn owl.

It was his Special Ceremony all over again, except this time he had killed a Tyto.


	18. The Cost of Curiosity

Flintgrease sat awake in the stone cavity at the base of a canyon that was serving as a barracks for his and another squadron. It was night time, but he was supposed to be sleeping. His squadron had been assigned over onto a daytime schedule for extended diurnal training to familiarize for daytime missions. But the new schedule was hardly the source of Flintgrease's insomnia. _It isn't right. It just isn't right. _He silently moaned to himself. _How could I have killed them?_

It had been several days since he had taken the lives of the two owls and their deaths hung heavy on Flintgrease's gizzard. After he had killed the Barn owl in his squadron, he feared for his life. The guard who had landed between him and the other owlets quickly restrained Flintgrease while several other guards landed nearby. Corporal Travis was quickly informed and soon arrived. Flintgrease expected quick and terrible retribution from the corporal, and he very well would have been killed for the death of his comrade had the guard not explained the conditions leading to the slaughter. Instead, the brunt of the corporal's wrath was focused on the survivors who had savagely beaten Flintgrease. His wounds were tended and nothing more was undertaken to discipline him. Needless to say, Flintgrease's actions netted him a reputation of fearful respect from the other owls.

But still, the killings were extremely difficult for him to cope with. The intense, daylong training was welcomed by Flintgrease because it served a very effective diversion from his thoughts. But at time to roost when there was a chance to think, Flintgrease was haunted by the memories of the violent deaths the two owls suffered at his talons. He could remember vaguely what he did to the Barn owl, now that his actions were behind him. He could feel himself twisting from the owls' grips and being guided by pure rage. After a brief gap in his memory, the next thing he can remember is that he had wrapped his talons around the closest owl's neck and twisted. While committing the action, he knew that he would kill the owl, for he took those actions knowing that it would certainly result in the owl's death. The fact that he killed with such blind hatred and without discretion terrified him.

His all consuming rage was understandable because of the brutality he was receiving; his decision to defend himself was only logical. But the question remained, _Why did I kill with so little care?_

It was paradoxical that he could kill so easily even though at this very moment he could never imagine himself ever doing such a terrible thing. Flintgrease shook his head as the memories crammed through his head. His gizzard was in shambles and he needed sleep, but he could not clear his mind as his thoughts quickly and impulsively drifted back to his dark memories, this time of his special ceremony.

_She was impure, it was my right. She was impure, it was my freedom to do. She was impure, I was doing my duty. _The words sounded through Flintgrease's mind as he tried to repress the guilt of having killed in such cold blood. He had taken her life to advance his own; all the rationalizations he had made to help himself get over his qualms of killing her were selfish. At least it really wasn't his choice, after all, he had been ordered to kill her.

That was great comfort to him, but there was no way he was going to repress the guilt of having killed a brother Tyto. He tensed his wings at the thought that was entering into his mind again and decided he needed another distraction.

Taking a slow look around at the owls, many of which were forced to sleep pressed against each other in the cramped confines of the cave, Flintgrease noted that all the owls including the two corporals were sleeping deeply. For good reason, the training exercises are grueling for every owl involved and drains every ounce of strength from the participants. Though tired and aching terribly also, Flintgrease was the only insomniac present and it was nighttime. He could easily slip out for a quick flight to take his mind off his worries.

Being careful not to let his talons click on the stone floor of the small den, he slowly and quietly stepped out of the hollow indenture the squadron had been assigned. He was careful to avoid bumping into owls that were nestled down in the middle of the cavity and it seemed to take forever before he reached the opening just a few feet away.

Once there, he cast a cautious glance at his corporal who was sleeping while standing with one foot pulled up to his body. Reassured that he was fully asleep, Flintgrease nearly lifted off but stopped. On the outside of the barracks den were rows of helmets belonging to the other squadron. It was one of several squadrons that forces of the elite Nyra Annihilators were often drafted from, so they had special helmets made into the image of the High Tyto's mask in honor of both leaders. Obviously the helmets were much different than that of the High Tyto, but one could not miss the resemblance. Flintgrease for unknown reasons grabbed one of the helmets and put it on before lifting off.

His wings were burning from the day's activities, but he had been getting stronger in flight every night. He could manage a short flight, it wasn't even a question.

His intended destination was to the branch in a secondary canyon that he heard the strange utterings emanating from a few days ago. Whatever it was that he heard had been gnawing at his curiosity like how a parasite gnaws at skin, to scratch at it might very well provide a good distraction.

Taking several minutes to reach the destination, Flintgrease was jumpy and distrustful of every owl he saw. He knew they had no capability of knowing that he was disobeying an unspoken order from his commanding officer, but he was still nervous. The fact that he had to double back several times to catch a canyon branch that he would occasionally miss made him even more nervous that he would be caught. Once again he knew better than to believe his fears, though they still loomed around him. Finally the subtle, rhythmic sounds began to grace Flintgrease's earslits. Growing louder, he could see the narrow branch ahead.

He decided it would be best to go in close to the ground and stick to the shadows so as to be hidden. The canyon was very narrow, only about two or three wingspans wide in most places, and the particular branch was short too. After only a few hundred feet, it appeared to Flintgrease to open up into a small but deep box canyon.

He decided that it would be best not to enter in without first seeing what's inside, so he took advantage of an indentation in the canyon wall at the mouth of the opening in front of him. At the base of the canyon, it provided a decent view, was a flat place to perch, and was overshadowed by an overhang. He knew he would be perfectly hidden as he landed in the shadows.

Taking a few moments to take in the sights and sounds, he was perplexed and slightly haunted by what he observed.

Dozens of owls of every species were lined up in rings on the floor of the canyon, their eyes hazy and distant. There were several sets of rings, but Flintgrease immediately saw that the inner rings were the Pure Species - the Tytos. The outer rings were comprised of non-Tytos who were standing in the most peculiar way. It was a submissive position with the owl's wings outstretched in front of it as he or she bowed forward to give respect to the inner circles of Tytos. The Tytos themselves were standing with one wing outstretched upward to the Moon directly overhead and their faces lifted skyward. At first, Flintgrease thought that they were all Sooty, Grass, and Masked owls, but he realized that they all had their faces blackened with dark colored mud and were blindfolded with scraps of leather. Slowly and methodically, they recited a mournful sounding poem.

_We grand Tytos, to the Moon we are Heirs,_

_We Praise its beauty in all the airs,_

_The light of our night, The might in our flight,_

_To which we pray for forgiveness for falling into snares._

_Forsaken had we, our true power,_

_But saved were we, it twas our finest hour,_

_Our right to rule, to be Pure and Full,_

_We spurned but then relearned through Tyto's mercy shower._

_Humble and contrite are we now,_

_No longer is our pride on the prowl._

_Our bright white face, our Pure race,_

_We wish to reclaim as a true owl._

The lower species of owls chanted a similar poem that, while acknowledging their own worthlessness and impurity, pined for usefulness to the Tytos. Both overlaid and repeated in an endlessly producing a remorseful, haunting sound.

"What are you doing here?" A voice directed at Flintgrease asked, startling him and causing his heart to skip a beat. Fortunately, he showed no external symptoms of the reflex. He quickly turned his head to face the speaker, scrambling to think of something to say. But before he came up with anything, the original speaker apologized in stuttering, repentant tones, "Oh, My... My... My liege... I beseech your forgiveness.. I... I Did not expect you until several more days from now at these Tyto's Acceptance Ceremony." He paused nervously, "High Tyto, I humbly present my services at your disposal."

Flintgrease was completely taken off guard by the owl thinking he was The Pure One. In a split moment, he realized that he was wearing a similar helmet, and that helmet reflecting moonlight was most likely the only thing this owl could see of him. At that moment, an idea came to his mind.

Having remembered once hearing the High Tyto give a speech to the Pure Ones as a whole, Flintgrease tempted fate as he tried his best to match the High Tyto's voice, tone, and manner of speaking. "I come to ensure you do not slack when you think you are not watched." The imitation was terrifyingly good. Flintgrease was almost taken aback by how much he sounded like the High Tyto.

The owl tensed and spoke in a timid voice, "I assure you... We work hard. I don't know where you would have gotten the impression that I and the others would not do our best in the indoctrination of the rebellious Tytos."

"I'm sure you wouldn't know." Flintgrease replied darkly in his imitation of the High Tyto's voice.

The other owl's muscles tensed as he swallowed hard on a pellet.

In the ensuing silence, Flintgrease realized he was in it for the long haul. He was going to have to play the role of a dissatisfied leader in disgust of incompetent underlings. Having let another few seconds pass to plan his words, Flintgrease was amused to notice the owl had wilfed down to a quarter of his size by the time he had his words ready, "You stand there in silence wasting your time when you could be explaining yourself. Prove to me your knowledge by telling me of this." He gestured with a wing to the young owls chanting poetry.

The other owl seemed to be paradoxically made even more nervous but yet relieved at the same time because of the break of silence, "I assure you, Your Purity, that I know everything there is to know about the brainwashings. Where do you want me to begin?"

"If you know so much, you should know the best beginning." Flintgrease threateningly stated to hide the fact he had no idea of where to tell the owl to begin.

The owl confidently nodded, "Why yes, Sir. The Pure Ones have long used indoctrinations such as these to assimilate Tyto's that have refused our truths. Starting back several generations ago, we began forcing the rebellious to recite poetry while..."

"I have little time to waste on your pointless ramblings." Flintgrease snapped, cutting the owl off, "Are you so incompetent that I must tell you where you must start. Prove your knowledge of our _current_ tactics."

The owl was shaking imperceptibly, leaving Flintgrease savoring the power of terror he was wielding over the other owl. Swallowing hard, the other owl began speaking in a small tone, "These owls you see here are on their third month of the indoctrination. As you know, our faces are the earthly embodiment of the Moon and we stress that importance to those to be indoctrinated. We speak of how they are hollow and weak when they do not embrace their Pure nature, and that is represented by their darkened faces. The blindfolds are to hide the Moon from their eyes to emphasize their unworthiness to partake in the Moon's light, and we do not let them take the blindfolds off. We tell the owls of this daily and embed it in the poetry they recite..."

"You are wasting my time. Tell me faster." Flintgrease cut off again.

"Yes Sir," the owl hoarsely croaked out, face twitching slightly, "Flecks. There are flecks in their blindfolds. They increase the brainwashing's efficiency many times over. We have had over half of the Tytos devote their allegiance to us and they shall have their faces cleansed at their Acceptance Ceremony and they shall be authentic Pure Ones. This all is so rough, I apologize Your Purity the High Tyto that I did not have a more eloquent summary. Do you wish to know of the non-Tytos, sir? I hope to have pleased you."

Flintgrease, keeping in his impersonation of his leader's character, spoke in a cold tone, "No. I expect more when I visit for their ceremony. Do not speak of tonight's incompetence to me again and I will overlook your failure."

The owl's face twitched pronouncedly.

"I have seen enough. I am leaving." Flintgrease said coldly.

"Yes sir..." The other owl all but whispered because of stress and fear.

Lifting off, Flintgrease waited a good several seconds into the flight before letting out a breath he did not know he was holding. For all the fun it was to wield such power over another owl, it was extremely stressful to keep the facade. To think about the consequences of impersonating the High Tyto made Flintgreae feel sick, but he had pretty well covered any chance of that owl revealing his imitation to anyone. Altogether, Flintgrease was in a good mood now though.

Churring softly at the thought of that owl's nervousness, he was struck with the fear of his corporal waking and finding he had flown out.

He hastened his pace to his maximum speed and found himself worrying over what terrible consequences would be awaiting him. But Flintgrease found his mind drifting to the Tytos he saw chanting poetry. He could not help but feel pity for those owls and wonder how the Pure species could ever be treated like that. But as soon as the concerns hit him, he realized that the Pure Ones were doing them a favor and the thought dropped from his mind.

Having reached his den barracks at a phenomenally quick pace, Flintgrease slowed to ensure an absolute silent approach. He landed without a sound and cast a nervous look at the two sleeping corporals. _"Good,"_ he thought, pleased they were asleep.

He silently slipped the helmet off and placed it in its original place slowly. Appeased that he had not been caught, Flintgrease cautiously began stepping in front of his corporal. Just then, Corporal Travis reached out and grabbed Flintgrease by the wing and startling him. He jumped back as a result and gave a startled cry, waking the rest of the owls.

Corporal Travis wretched and twisted Flintgrease's wing into a painful angle, "Did you enjoy yourself on your little flight?" He asked rhetorically in a gravelly tone.

Silent from fear, Flintgrease swallowed hard, dimly aware of the twenty or so owls watching him. He had been so close to successfully returning without any owl knowing about his leave of absence. But then again, for all he knew, the corporal could have known he was sneaking out while he was doing so and was patient enough to wait for his return.

"I am going to teach this one a lesson." The corporal growled to the other owls, "Expect us to be back in fifteen minutes."

Dragging Flintgrease painfully behind, Corporal Travis lifted off. Flintgrease was hard pressed to even be able to fly with one of his wings restrained, but he was forced to do so anyway. Even as light as owls are, being drug through the air is unpleasant to an extreme degree.

They had flown a short distance down the canyon when Corporal Travis sharply rolled in flight and slung Flintgrease into the canyon's wall. There wasn't time to catch himself, so Flintgrease hit hard and tumbled down to the ground. Stunned from the impact, he was unable to move when the Corporal landed on top of him and tore a large patch of feathers from the back of his neck.

Embarrassingly, a whimper pain escaped his beak and Corporal Travis heard it.

"Weakling." He spat out as Flintgrease finally regained his footing.

Suddenly, and to much of Flintgrease's alarm, Corporal Travis lofted into the air and grabbed him with a set of claws digging into each shoulder. Corporal Travis then lifted Flintgrease who was struggling with all his might a short distance into the air. Once sufficiently high enough, he somersaulted forward with Flintgrease in tow and slung the fledgling towards the ground.

Quick to react, Flintgrease managed to slow the speed he was thrown at land relatively softly, though the impact still hurt greatly.

"You knew sneaking away while you were supposed to be sleeping was wrong, but you still did it! Why!?" Corporal Travis bellowed indignantly, though the question was more rhetorical than real. He landed in front of Flintgrease and cuffed him on the side of the face with great force, creating a semi-large plume of feathers knocked from his facial disk.

Laying on the ground, the battered fledgling twitched when struck.

Numbed and dulled by the pain, he could hear the sound of his corporal's voice resonating as if at a great distance. The voice was yelling something disciplinary at him, but it came across so lazily through Flintgrease's disorientation that all he knew was that it was something not nice.

A blow to his side caught Flintgrease's attention and the corporal's voice growled through clearly, "You scum. Stand and show respect!"

"Ugh..." Another whimper of pain escaped from Flintgrease's beak as he tried to stand, "Yes sir."

He managed to get to his talons and was surprised because he felt somewhat better once standing. But he was weak and was quickly knocked back to the ground by the corporal.

"Stand!" The corporal screeched.

It was slightly harder this time, but Flintgrease managed to get back to his feet again. However, he was knocked back down by the corporal another time.

"Stand again!"

Flintgrease moaned. The entire routine of standing and being knocked back down did not make sense to him, but he stood anyway. This time, he was allowed to continue standing as Corporal Travis spoke contemptuously, "Owlet, I have no use for you." Flintgrease took a hard swallow and stood unblinking at attention, blood trickling down the side of his face. "You have cheated into the ranks, stolen an early special ceremony, made illegal affiliations with high ranking officers, disobeyed orders," Corporal Travis paused to emphasize the weight of the situation, "And you have killed a fellow Tyto."

The corporal stepped behind Flintgrease and stared distantly at nothing in particular, "What should I do with you?" He asked in a deadly tone.

Looking down at the ground and closing his eyes, Flintgrease spoke in a defeated and dejected tone, "I don't know."

The corporal gave a stifled, arrogant laugh, "So you admit it. You admit that you are a failure, that you are inept and cannot follow orders."

"I'm sorry, Sir." Flintgrease pleaded, "I.. I.. had a lot on my mind. I needed something to make me forget... To make me forget about my TUPSI and the owl I killed. To make me forget about the Barn owl."

"So you leave during time to roost? Past time that I authorized you to be awake?" Corporal Travis crassly retorted.

This time, it was Flintgrease's gaze that fell distant as a terrible realization set in, "I never knew their names, Sir. I never even knew who they were. But I killed them..."

Another swift strike was imparted onto Flintgrease, knocking him over.

In a truly despising tone, the corporal leaned over Flintgrease and snarled, "You are as worthless as an impure owl. In battle, you kill without even thinking. You need not know the names of those whose lives you take. If you can't do that, then you do not belong in the Union.

The posture, tone, and facial expression of Corporal Travis suggested another round of violence was approaching. Seeing this, fear flushed throughout Flintgrease's body and his instincts took over.

He flapped his weak wings and managed to stumble into flight for several feet, but he was too feeble from pain to move farther. But it was far enough to get away from the corporal, who was caught off guard and did not react immediately. Before he could move though, the corporal was on top of him. Flintgrease let out a high pitched screech of distress that all Barn owls can vocalize as he lept, throwing the corporal off of his back.

Turning to try to escape, Flintgrease ran face first into the canyon wall.

Fear was flowing through him as he quickly wheeled about to face the approaching danger.

He was trapped, and some primal force inside of him instinctively dropped his posture into a threat display. Flintgrease could see the indignation in Corporal Travis' eyes as he stepped towards him. Crowding the canyon wall, Flintgrease pressed his tailfeathers hard against it, subconsciously trying to distance himself from Corporal Travis.

What seemed like a hundred thoughts were running through his mind. What kind of discipline was he going to receive for acting this way? How much pain was he going to feel? Was he going to be seriously injured? Was he even going to survive?

Flintgrease felt anger. Anger at himself for being so weak and disobeying curfew. Anger at the corporal for disciplining him so harshly. Anger at the two owls he had killed because they died. But the fear that he was experiencing was overwhelming the emotion.

Something else that fear was overpowering was Flintgrease's respect for authority and life itself. It did not matter that Corporal Travis was an officer in the Pure Ones or that he was a Barn owl whose life should be preserved. Whatever actions that Flintgrease felt would see to his safety, he would undertake them.

With one more step forwards, Corporal Travis had come too close and Flintgrease's fears released his primal need to defend himself, breaking his self control.

He gave one great lunge forwards and tackled his commanding officer, pinning him down on the ground. There, Flintgrease grabbed the corporal's head and slammed it to the ground, hoping that it would stun him long enough to get away.

Flintgrease knew that by attacking his commanding officer, he was sealing his death warrant. But he was so scared at the moment that the thought of an absolute chance of death later sounded far better than a rather small one currently.

However, even though he had lifted off with great expedience, Corporal Travis being an experienced soldier recovered faster. By the time Flintgrease was around one hundred feet in the air, the corporal caught up with him. There, he barely managed to swivel mid flight to meet Corporal Travis' talons with his own.

They locked together and both of them began spiraling down to the ground. Flintgrease was being forced to fall below the corporal, and judging on the look in his commander's eyes, he planned on letting him smash against the ground.

Struggling, Flintgrease could not free himself from the other owl's grip as they neared the ground. But forty feet before impact, Flintgrease gained a new surge of strength. Spreading his wings wide to catch as much air as possible, he managed to roll and sling the corporal underneath him. They both let go of eachother, and the corporal tried to save himself from hitting the ground.

However, Flintgrease dimly knew that if the corporal escaped uninjured, the commanding officer would still be trying to kill him. So he re-engaged and sunk his talons into the corporal to ensure that he would take a full impact. One second later, they collided with the ground and a terrible cracking sensation ran through Flintgrease's body.

* * *

><p>Close to the same time, Eric was in the library taking an exact count of the number of flecks the Pure Ones had collected. It had been far too long since he had taken official inventory, and with the relatively massive influx of flecks from the still functioning pelletoriums, waiting to do so would only make doing so more difficult in the future.<p>

After his argument with Stryker several nights ago, he had been careful in gaining information on his apprentice's whereabouts and condition. And furthermore, Amelia had been pressing him to drop the matter for his own good. She had been quite insistent.

However, he caught wind of the death of a young Barn owl in the ranks, and because the details were vague and lacked any detail, could not help but fear for Flintgrease's life. Frankly, Eric could easily imagine Stryker having Flintgrease's death arranged somehow, just to spite him.

It was enough to make him tempt fate by asking around, calling in small favors, and even asking close acquaintances to keep their ear slits open and report anything relevant they heard. But he still was forced to be very careful. Fortunately, he had just picked up on a lead concerning where his apprentice had been assigned to. The source of information told him Stryker had personally ordered a reassignment for some owlet to a different commanding officer.

Eric's acquaintance who had given him this information was a part time record keeper for many of the squadrons. She said more detailed information would be on its way via messenger after she had rechecked her listings.

So during the time the messenger's arrival was pending, Eric, even with his extensive patience, was becoming quite anxious for more information to act upon.

Finally, in the distance through one of sky ports in the ceiling of the cavity wherein the library was located, a small Pigmy owl could be seen. A messenger and assistant for a high ranking Masked owl, Stryker nearly had a fit that a Tyto would use an impure owl to carry sensitive information. But the Pigmy owl had been well moonblinked by the last inhabitants of the St. Aegoleous and he was very loyal. He even almost seemed to like his master. Bemused by this, the Masked owl would slip her servant extra rations at most every meal.

The messenger landed and plopped a piece of parchment onto the ground in front of Eric. Waiting to ensure the message was picked up before he left, the messenger without speaking watched Eric grab it.

Much preferring such spartan social interactions, Eric paid no attention to the lack of dialogue and quickly began reading the letter.

_ To my comrade and superior. As you know, Stryker amended my enlistment records that I have keeping. At the time, I did not see what particular section he modified, but I think I have found it. There is an entry for an owl named 'Flintgrease' under Corporal Travis. Such a name is very rare, and I can't immagine that there is another fledgling with his name. It can only be him. Why Stryker would ever assign a fledgling to Corporal Travis is beyond me because his squadron's average age is about six to ten months of age._

_ PS. The same day of the changes, I removed an entry under the same corporal for a Barn owl who was killed by one of his fellow trainees. Take this as you will, but the messenger who gave me the information told me that he was killed by a two month old Barn owl. I need not imply anything more for you to understand._

Eric reread the entry once again to make sure that he had read it right.

He had read it correctly.

This information put Eric into a serious bind. Flintgrease for all indications was in a very bad situation , one that could very easily be the end of him. However, he could not simply ignore Stryker, if for nothing more that he, Eric, would also be put into severe danger.

While the old owls was contemplating this, a Masked owl was approaching his location with blazing speed.

She shot into the library and landed with such speed that by the time Eric noticed her, she was already standing in front of him.

A puzzled look befell Eric as she was gulping in deep breaths of air, and he asked her, "Why did you send me this letter if you were going to just-" He was cut off.

"There is no time." She said in between breaths. "Follow me, something bad has happened."

She then lifted away with Eric close behind.

On their rapid flight to their destination, the Masked owl, elaborated that after she had sent the letter, she decided to check in on Flintgrease herself. When she arrived at the small burrow Corporal Travis was currently using, she found that he had already taken the fledgling to be disciplined.

With a few questions, she had figured out where the corporal was heading to, and she decided to go to that location to watch from afar to ensure Flintgrease's safety.

Needless to say, she was horrified by the sight she saw.

The following minutes, she with great haste notified several other owls and then shot back to Eric's location.

It would have been a wonder that she arrived at the library only moments after her messenger had she not sent him over thirty minutes ago. The foolish Pigmy owl had gotten lost on a five minute flight.

Soon, they reached Flintgrease's location, and they were greeted with a macabre sight.

Eric was met with the sight of two owls laying splayed out on the ground, one having sunk his talons deeply into the other's sides. Above them, stood two medics who were prying the imbedded talons so the two motionless owls could be separated.

Flintgrease had done a very good job in ensuring the corporal would take a full impact, because it was very clear by the on setting stiffens, Corporal Travis was dead. Flintgrease, though battered and unconscious, was very much alive. For when his talons had been freed from his corporal's body and he was being rolled off his side, his face twitched in a grimace of pain and he uttered a stifled moan.

There was a screech overhead, and Eric looked up.

It was Stryker and two of his escorts. At that moment, Eric knew that he had to leave, but he did not. Instead, he would make his stand and he began formulating an argument...

Stryker and his guards landed on a stony perch a few feet up the canyon wall, commanding the full attention of all present except the medics.

"Will someone please explain to me why owls in this squadron keep killing eachother?" Stryker's voice was sharp and impatient.

"Sir," An owl next to Eric responded, "This is the same owl that killed the Tyto Alba several days ago."

"Nonsense!" Stryker retorted, "That owl was hardly able to fly. He could have never killed a trained corporal. Not any corporal, not Corporal Travis."

"Sir." One of the medics, a male Grass owl, spoke up, "This owl is a fledgling. There is no doubting that."

Stryker gave an annoyed huff of air and glided down next to Flintgrease. After landing, an astonished look flickered across the Lieutenant's face before his expression returned to its normal look of perpetual annoyance and self-importance. "He shall be executed by this time tomorrow."

Eric, forgetting his own peril, made his presence known by speaking. "Stryker. This owl has potential."

Stryker, now aware of Eric's presence, cast him a lethal glare. "I warned you not to speak of him to me again. He is under my command now."

"And look at where that has gotten you. Take this as proof for what I have been telling you about him. I doubt that you can classify him as weak now."

In opposition to his normal character, Stryker seemed to conciser the statement. With a conceding tone in his voice, he asked, "Fine. But what do you recommend we do with him?"

"Let's move aside and discuss that away from these owls." Eric suggested. Stryker nodded.

As the two lofted away to a secluded perch, the medics began to focus their attention on Flintgrease. Parting feathers in places, one began to assess the level of bruising and overall damage Flintgrease had taken. "Exactly what I expected to find. Look at this." He said to the other medic, a Grass owl, "He had been severely beaten hours, days even, before now. No telling what he has endured."

The Grass owl responded morbidly as she spoke, "Yes. I would wager that we would find injuries like this in the rest of his squadron. We get so many from Corporal Travis." She paused, "His left leg is broken, what about his wings?"

"They appear fine. But he may have some small fractures." He responded, "I think this owlet just made our lives a lot easier by taking this corporal out of the picture."

The Grass owl medic gave a bemused snort, "Ya. Except there are a lot of others that bludgeon their squadrons almost as bad as this corporal."

"True," The owl conceded morbidly, "But this one was one of the worst."

By now, Eric and Stryker were returning to the scene and the two medics halted their chat about the corporal.

"So we have an agreement then? He is to remain under me and be assigned to only what I dictate?" Eric asked Stryker.

"Yes. So long as when and _if_ he shows this potential you speak of, _we_ both will present him to the High Tyto and Her Pureness, Together." Stryker said, stressing 'if' and 'we'."

Eric nodded in agreement. "The we have reached a consensus." He then added to himself _We now only need to hope that he has survived without serious injury._


	19. The Battle of the Burning

Flintgrease was perched on the writing lectern in Eric's hollow, quill in grip, sorting through a list of ancient Othren numbers he was to convert into the writing system Eric had taught him. There was a fragmented piece of their knowledge, long forgotten, tucked away in the corners of the library. Eric had found it and had ordered Flintgrease to begin the process of translating it into a readily legible document. The language used by the long extinct species was the same as spoken Hoolian, the language Flintgrease spoke. Only the symbols that represent the different sounds were different, so it was no trouble to translate one of their documents into the symbol system used by owls to write.

The numbers though were a different story. They were of what was deemed a 'different base' than the number system used by the kingdoms of owls. After the technical details, all this simply means is that without converting these values from base ten to base eight, that used by the owl kingdoms, it is near impossible to properly understand what the Othren numbers actually meant. The translation was slow and arduous, requiring much math - something Flintgrease was still learning, thus explaining why Eric was having him do this.

Time had passed quickly in the two months since he had killed Corporal Travis, the thought of which Flintgrease shuddered at and wished to push behind him and forget. Those few days had been so dark for him, and he only wished that his thoughts would not return so often. He had killed two Tytos - two brothers - and that was unbearable.

For all intensive purposes, Flintgrease should have been executed very quickly for his actions, but nothing ever came of the incident. Flintgrease was indescribably happy that he had escaped punishment, but he did wonder if it had somehow been an injustice that he faced no consequences for killing the two owls.

Then again, simply remembering what he had done and living with the guilt were enough of consequences. Then there was the Great Horned owl.

Had he killed her in the same way as Corporal Travis, he could handle her death better because he had not slaughtered her out of cold blood. But she had died a violent and helpless death and, though Flintgrease knew that she was a species inferior to his own, he could not rationalize his actions. He had killed out of anger and self-betterment, and he knew deep down that in no situation was that right.

Not that he had really gotten anything of worth from the deal anyway. His name was mauled into Flintgrease, a name that was awkward and unwieldy, and he did not get special placement. It was clear Stryker loathed him for some reason.

Dealing with those factors were impossibly hard, how he wished he still got to regularly see his friends from Corporal Bennett's squadron.

He missed them quite dearly. Once the squadron had learned to fly, each member went their separate ways. They did not see each other all that often now. Two or three times a week, they would get two meet up for a few hours and have some fun when a period of free time is given to all members of the Pure Ones. After all, though the Pure Ones are indeed largely an army, they are a society as well, and a society cannot exist on military drills and combat practice alone, though the Pure Ones certainly try. Nonetheless, there are periods of three or so hours every few nights where the commanders of the Union understand that for their soldiers to fight and learn well, they require time to become well rested and re-energized. In this time, Flintgrease would occasionally see his comrades, but they never would all be able to meet at the same place at the same time.

Catching himself becoming distracted, Flintgrease pushed these thoughts behind him and continued working until Eric entered the hollow a half hour later.

With Eric entering into the hollow, Flintgrease looked up from his piece of parchment. "You are back early, Sir." He stated flatly.

"Yes I am." Eric replied as he quickly walked over to a stack of his books, opened a narrow but long tube that was slung across his back, and pulled out a piece of parchment that was inside. "I was speaking with the High Tyto and his mate about something when we received news that the Guardians of Ga'Hoole are mounting an attack. It is likely that we will be attacked as soon as midnight tonight."

Fear flushed through Flintgrease. "There will be an attack? How many of them do you think there will be?"

"Their entire force. This will be a full scale assault." Eric stated grimly. "Finally, it is time we are given the chance to destroy their entire army in one swift cleansing." Eric by now had taken the piece of parchment, filed it away and was gathering maps of the canyonlands for the commanding officers to use to assist in the defense of their territory. "It is a shame that this attack could not have waited a month for us to equip our army with the new battleclaws. I would have liked to see them in action."

Eric then looked thoughtfully at Flintgrease. "I had just been informing the High Tyto of the battleclaws and arranging a display of their power. I am certain that he would have been _very_ amazed to see their capabilities demonstrated by an excellent flier like you."

For a moment, Flintgrease's fears of the impending attack vanished as the excitement of what Eric implied set in. '"I am going to see the High Tyto up close." Flintgrease said with great realization.

"Yes." Eric stated. "But now time is short, and we must prepare for the coming battle. These things must wait."

"Yes Sir." Flintgrease replied, but there was no response on Eric's behalf.

Instead, the old owl simply stood silently looking thoughtfully at Flintgrease and showing the slightest tinge of regret. He sighed and in a serious but also an out of character soft tone, he started talking. Flint, I must tell you something that I should have told you long ago. I call you Flint because Stryker had no authority to rename you, and I had no authority to keep you hidden this long." Eric sighed again. "This whole endeavor has been a disaster, and I cannot seem to get the truth to where it must go to. I had never told you because the High Tyto and Nyra had told me I was wrong. Everyone has told me I am wrong about this, and I for the past month have maybe believed them and stalled in my plans. But this has to come to an end now..." Eric, speaking in soft, reflective tones that Flintgrease had never heard him use before, trailed off and left the young owl hanging in suspense.

After several seconds, the owl shook his head. "No. I can't tell you now. It would be a distraction during this coming battle, and I cannot risk you being killed." Eric stepped forward to Flintgrease and put his wing on the young owl's shoulder. "Flint." Eric stated in an almost fatherly tone. "The future of the Union lies with you. Do whatever you must to survive these next days. Once this has passed, I will tell you something that will uproot your world, and together, we shall approach our leaders, and make sense of this situation."

"What do you mean?" Flintgrease was sincerely fearful because of Eric's demeanor. He had never seen this hardened owl act this way.

Eric shook his head. "I can only tell you, Flint, that you should not be alive. By Nyra's own account, you should be dead. But somehow, by the grace of Glaux, you are alive, and because of this, you must stay alive. So I cannot tell you more and risk distracting you with this information should you fight in these hours."

Flintgrease had no idea what to make of Eric, and he was equally puzzled at whatever was being kept from him. As he was trying to figure out what to say in response, Eric dropped the subject and regained his normal demeanor. "There is far too much to do to worry ourselves with this." Eric stated flatly. "Flintgrease. I have told Nasher that you are to be equipped with the finest battleclaws and helmet he has. Fly to the armory and retrieve them."

Flintgrease nodded. "Yes Sir."

"Good. Now go. And come back quickly" Eric replied.

Having been given the order to do so, Flintgrease lifted off and flew to the main armory. En route, he couldn't help but feel pride that he has been given the opportunity to meet the High Tyto and Her Pureness, but more so, he was deeply perplexed at what Eric nearly said. He had been keeping something from him, and it was something tremendous. The only thing Flintgrease could come up with was his sister. Maybe he had some power that she had...

Worrying about it was futile, and Flintgrease dumped the thought line from his mind.

After a short flight, he landed in the main storage area of the armory and looked about for another owl. That particular section consisted of a long, extremely narrow canyon that was wider at the base than at the top. Lining the walls were dozens upon dozens of racks, each holding a pair of battle claws and a single helmet on each hook. Moonlight was seeping in through the narrow opening at the top, reflecting off the metal, and giving a cold, respectful feeling to the entire section. Certainly, the sight was macabre.

"Eh? Who are you?" A deep, gravelly voice asked from behind. Flintgrease turned around and was met by Nasher.

Flintgrease opened his beak to respond, but was beaten to what he was going to say by the Bay owl. "Ahhh, yes. Flintgrease." He exhaled the words in a dark manner, "Eric has been keeping me well updated on you." For one brief moment, there was a glint in the owl's eye hinting at some knowledge that was withheld from Flintgrease.

Taken slightly off guard by the owl knowing who he was, Flintgrease said, "Hello, Sir. I am told that this needs to be done quickly."

"I suppose that you are wanting your battle claws, yes?" Nasher asked redundantly.

"Yes, I am." replied Flintgrease respectfully.

"Well right this way," The owl's grievous voice morbidly sounded while he spread out a wing to indicate the direction. As they walked, Flintgrease could not help but let his eyes linger on some of the weapons. Each was slightly different in design from the others, and each design more menacing than the last. As they were nearing the end of that particular rack, Flintgrease's eyes fell upon one pair in particular that was held in a special location. He stopped in his tracks and his pulse accelerated as he eyed them over. They were completely different than the others, with openings at the end that left the talons free and curved serrated blades extending out from each cuff that covered the talons. A faint tinge of yellow reflected from them, casting an almost imperceptible dim yellow hue onto the immediate surroundings. Flintgrease stood motionless staring into them for several seconds.

"Those are very special, young Flintgrease."

Flintgrease jumped slightly because he had been so affixed onto the battleclaws that he did not see the Bay owl move right in next to him. Composing himself, he looked at the Bay owl who then continued speaking, "Yes. Very special... Nyra herself had once shown interest in these." He held an odd gaze at Flintgrease and then chuckled. "Ah yes. Nyra herself.."

Flintgrease squirmed, made uneasy by this already frightful owl.

He continued for. "Do you know, there is a story behind this pair of claws."

"What story?" Flintgrease asked through his nervousness,.

The other owl's eyes instantly became alert and he met Flintgrease's gaze, "The Legend of Tao."

"The Legend of Tao?"

Nasher chuckled, his stony churr leaving Flintgrease with the impression of boulders falling and smashing into the ground. "You have never heard of the Legend of Tao? I must say you are in for a real treat. Every Tyto needs to know of the Tale of the Black Barn owl."

"Black Barn owl." Flintgrease repeated in a quiet voice, his thoughts instantly shooting to his dead sister.

"Yes.." Nasher chuckled lowly. "Just like your sister."

Flintgrease was highly unnerved by the owl seeming to know his thoughts, but then again, he was the one who had taken Stellaris and was raising her while she was still alive. Clearly, he knew that she was his sister. It was just a coincidence that he commented at the same time as Flintgrease thought about her.

Nasher continued. "None of the living know the name of the author, though many say he was insane. If I remember, it goes something like this..."

_Ago, ago, long long ago, a fiery fury raged._

_Ago, ago, long long ago a darkness deathly waged._

_Gathered and bound, black feathers around,_

_a dark, dark gizzard that was hatched and found._

_His white Moon face, his noble soul,_

_Black feathers and darkness did replace and stole._

_Born of blood so wicked and vile,_

_Upon his mother's death, did he smile._

_Oh, that dark, dark gizzard, what a haggard thing,_

_It doth make my heart gauge, to it my scroom doth sing._

_But that dark dark gizzard, resurrection it sought,_

_Long long ago lived for its master and fought._

_A wretched__ crowl__ beast, his master, did Tao proclaim,_

_it's dark haggish brew did he claim._

_Smelted and burned, poured and churned,_

_Forged of shadows, a weapon spurned._

_To his enemies, the blades did maim,_

_The hardened iron of Hagsfiend's bane._

_His joy, oh his joy, mediated pain,_

_His joy, oh his joy, was evil's reign._

_But still his joy never came,_

_But still his joy never came._

_His vicious acts left dead the weak,_

_While he quested for the goal that he did seek,_

_What goal had he, what a fool might ask_

_Forsooth! the rebirth of his Master, and darkness overall to cast._

_But fail, did his mission at last, at last,_

_And so faded away, he did, into the past, the distant past._

Flintgrease felt several shivers and a deep coldness run through his spine throughout the recantation of the dark poem, leaving him speechless. Hagsfiends, the owl equivalent of goblins, witches, and sorcerers, were a topic of fearful, terrified respect, so the poem with its references to them was all the more haunting and ghoulish.

But the morbid obsession with the battleclaws persisted and his gaze fell upon them again. "What does the legend mean, and what do these claws have to do with it?" he asked in a quiet, fearful tone.

Nasher churred like the rolling thunder once again, "It tells of an owl named Tao who lived during the time of Hagsfiends. It is said that he was taken - Possessed some might say! - by a dark spirit before he was hatched. His fighting was fierce enough to strike fears into entire armies, but there was more. He was the lieutenant under the command of Nyra and Nyroc. Mind you not Nyra who is our Pureness now, but the first Nyra, the one she is named after!"

Flintgrease had been looking deeply at the claws, but when Nasher dramatically interjected 'Possessed', Flintgrease's attention was immediately recalled to the speaker, "He was real?" He asked.

"Oh yes, now that we can be sure of. What the legend says, we will never know if it is true. But know this. It was said that Tao's battleclaws were forged from the metal of a hagsfiend's cauldron, and they retained the nauchmagen that was once boiled into potions by the hagsfiend." Nahser paused for a moment and looked at the set of battleclaws, "Tao's battleclaws were lost when he was supposedly killed. But these were found not long ago in one of the many caves hollowing out the region. Next to them was a black feather." He churred one last time, "Though it certainly was a crow's feather, one must ask who these really belonged to."

Swallowing hard, Flintgrease looked back at the claws. It was as if an invisible aura breathed forth from the dark metal and rose into the air like rolls of fire. It was as if Flintgrease could see this phenomenon ever so slightly through the same method he could read flames, and primal terror struck into him.

Without even realizing his actions, Flintgrease had reached out and touched the blades of one of the claws with his talon. They were cold but also hot; freezing but yet scalding, ice but yet fire.

"Do you want to try them on?" Nasher asked. At the same moment, Flintgrease felt something lurch inside of him.

But just as suddenly, everything was fine again; his fears just up and vanished. Confidently, he responded, "Yes, I do."

So Nasher agreed and a minute later, the claws were on Flintgrease's talons.

"It feels so empowering," he observed with awe, "I feel... I feel... I can't describe it. But it feels good."

"It does, Doesn't it?" Nasher agreed darkly.

Indeed, it did feel good. _Very Good_. Flintgrease observed._ Almost too good._

The odd mix of heat and coldness on his talons, the incredible sensation they sent up his legs into his gizzard, the feeling of power, how strong he looked when wearing them. All the feelings were incredibly pleasurable, but Flintgrease felt it as a guilty, sinfull pleasure. A pleasure like ripping the throat out of the Great Horned owl, one like threatening the owls in the squadron after he had killed one of them. A deep insidious fear began to creep over Flintgrease and the rising desire to take the claws off overwhelmed him. Panic set in like as if a set of talons were wrapping around his neck and slowly squeezing the life from him.

"Why don't you wear these for a while. You seem to look good in them." observed Nasher after a moment or two of observation.

Flintgrease squirmed slightly, but he kept his beak shut and stayed quiet as the weapons officer gathered a helmet and made him try it on.

At one point, Flintgrease could have sworn he saw something move in the shadows of the canyon, but he dismissed the subtle movement as his eyes playing tricks on him and he ignored it. Still, he felt as if someone or something were watching him; as if a pair of eyes were carving into him.

Nasher soon finished, and he then gave Flintgrease a set of instructions. "These are on lend to you only. No other owl is to have them, and you are to bring them back when it is time. If you need to know when exactly I expect them back, ask your mentor, Eric." He sounded very protective. That much, though, Flintgrease knew about this owl. He was always obsessive over his armory and the contents. These weapons were his life and that was very clear.

As Flintgrease was preparing to lift off, he felt the cold sensation of being glared down. It was such a strong sensation, he knew which direction it was coming from, but when he looked over at the shadows where he felt the presence, there was nothing there. That unnerved Flintgrease all the more.

Officially having been given a severe case of the 'creelies', or extreme unnerving, Flintgrease was quick to leave.

Several seconds passed after Flintgrease left before the shadows that Flintgrease had looked at began to move from their spot. They quickly but with perfect quietness slipped behind Nasher who appeared unaware of the moving shadow's presence. But as it moved forward to envelop Nasher, the war hardened owl swung around and struck the form, knocking it to the ground. Several black feathers were knocked loose and drifted down to the ground.

Glaring down at the black patch on the ground, Nasher was indignant that it tried to attack him as it proceeded to scream rebelliously, "Those Are Mine! Why Did You Give Them To Him!?"

"How dare you attack me." Nasher growled in his rough voice. "I should let him keep them as punishment for you."

The black form on the ground shifted slightly at the threat. In a low tone, the form spat out. "You wouldn't dare..."

Nasher continued with a dark, malevolent voice. "Everything you are is because of me. Believe me when I say that I know how to break you."

The shadow grumbled in response. "It wasn't me who attacked you."

Moving so he was standing directly over the black form, he leaned in over it and placed his beak right next to where its head was. There, he quietly, methodically, replied, "That is exactly why I took those from you. I will not allow you to be near them until you have your other half under control."

Morphing slightly in shape, the form appeared to stand. From there, it glided smoothly across the ground through a moonbeam. There was a slight shimmer of obsidian black feathers as the owl like shape passed through the dull light. The owl stopped when she reached the other side of the light and was hidden again.

Turning her head so only her ebony eyes would catch the moonlight and reflect it back after tainting it yellow, two shimmering points of cream yellow glared down Nasher. "Believe me, I already have. I already have."

* * *

><p>Flintgrease soon arrived back at Eric's den. Amelia and Felic were not there and a small fire was burning in Eric's fire dish. Meanwhile, Eric was rustling about gathering several leather bags that he had.<p>

When Flintgrease landed, the battleclaws that he was wearing were continuing to give off the strange sensation, and he was terribly unnerved.

Eric, catching sight of movement from the corner of his eye looked over at Flintgrease. In one brief moment, he wilfed ever so slightly and very sternly ordered Flintgrease to, "Take those off now!"

Quick to comply, Flintgrease was frightened by Eric's reaction. With just a few pulls of the leather straps, he was able to step out of them and did so very expediently. "I am sorry." Flintgrease apologized contritely. "I didn't know."

"It was not your fault." Eric stated, grabbing up the claws, stuffing them into a corner, and propping a large atlas up in front of the corner to hide them. His tone was more serious than usual. "You never wore these, you never saw them, you do not know they exist."

"Yes Sir." Flintgrease replied, more than happy to pretend that they did not exist. As curious as he was about them, forgetting about them was a much preferable option.

Eric gave a very heavy, patronizing heave of breath. "Nasher has gone too far... I was a fool to think he would keep those hidden." Pacing over to the hollow exit, Eric looked out with a nearly worried look on his face. It was clear he wanted to confront Nasher, but he did not. "The damage is already done." He said to himself. "I know she has seen them long before now."

"Who?" Flintgrease asked.

Eric's head whipped about to catch Flintgrease in his glare so quickly that to the young owls eyes, his head seemed to turn almost instantly. "No Questions!" Eric ordered vehemently.

Flintgrease wilfed and said nothing else. Instead, with much embarrassment, he turned to look at the fire in the firedish.

The light from the fire flickered across the hollow, and just as his sight was drawn to the battleclaws earlier, so his gaze was attracted to the fire. He looked into the flames, happily taking the distraction of watching the flames dance.

He had seen no visions in the fire in the past two months, and he was glad. His sister, he now knew, had possessed an unnatural power. And just now, Flintgrease knew that there was something supernatural about those claws, and it was something evil. He was glad to not only be rid of them, but also glad to be ordered to forget wholly about them. He wanted nothing to do with the otherworldly magen and nauchmagen, the magic and dark magic, he knew of.

So Flintgrease symbolically celebrated being rid of the claws by looking deeper into the fire, for doing so was proof of his victory over the magen that had plagued him with the visions. Somewhere in that action, there was an analogy that Flintgrease liked.

It was a very good fire with strong roots, meaning it had an excellent bed of coals. The brush and single log that was on the bed of coals were burning well, slowly but strongly, producing much heat atop that created by the coals.

His gaze fell on a single lick of flame that was dancing like the flame of a candle. Flintgrease loved this type of flame, because they were stable and he could see how the surrounding air patterns shape and change their structure. A tapered cone of light living it's life, such a beautiful sight...

Something was wrong; Flintgrease looked harder at the flame.

He swallowed slightly when he noticed that it's surface had a subtle pattern to it that was unlike normal fire.

Fearfully, he knew what this pattern was.

There was nothing Flintgrease could do, including look away, as the pattern darkened and contrasted, and expanded to other flames with much the same manner as a brush fire expands from tree to tree.

Images, shapes, messages, all proliferated immensely in the following seconds. With a small flit of light, many of the rising columns of fire came to life and spawned images made of flames that disappeared as they rose up as a unified portion of the column of. The information presented to Flintgrease was random, illogical. There was no order, no sense, and the images nonsense, much like the colorful twirling that plays in front of ones' closed eyes following being hit hard in the head.

At an exponential rate, though, the images were beginning to cohere and take unified shape as a single, logical narrative. It was only moments before all that was assaulting Flintgrease's eyes and mind coalesced into a tranquil scene of trees. Being near the feeling of overwhelmed with images, what he was seeing now was relaxing and gentle as Flintgrease was hit with a wave of nostalgia. He realized the image was the vista from the hollow he had hatched in.

He had forgotten how beautiful it was there.

Two forms, Flintgrease's parents, glided into the image and for one moment he almost missed them. "_No!"_ He reminded himself, and a wave of anger surged through him. Seeing their faces reminded him of how they had broken their covenant of parenthood and abandoned him.

_ "They got what they deserved.."_ Flintgrease thought to himself, glad that two decrepit owls like them would be killed for pretending to love him but then shatter his gizzard by taking that false love from him.

Why was he even paying attention to this in the first place? These images were not to be trusted. He is to ignore them at all costs. Those were the thoughts that followed in his mind.

But he did not look away, he physically and mentally could not look away. The fire was calling to him.

The vision of his old hollow was carrying on, but fading. In its place, another sight was taking their place.

It was an owl. A single solitary owl flying with stiff wings over the canyonlands. Being a non-tyto of nature, a number of derogatory thoughts and insults directed at the owl shot through Flintgrease's mind. Oddly, this owl was the size of a songbird, and did not seem alive. A second owl, one that Flintgrease quickly realized was himself, was flying towards the small owl.

In the vision, Flintgrease grabbed the small owl, and the following words entered into his mind: _"Owlipoppen, decoy, trick."_ And others like them too followed. At that moment, Flintgrease realized that the small owl in his vision was in fact a makeshift dummy made to glide. It wasn't a real owl.

Suddenly, the entire vision shifted away and was overwhelmed by visions and shapes that emerged. It was of the set of battleclaws Flintgrease had just worn; however, before anything meaningful about them could be seen, the entire scene in the fire decayed and was replaced by yet another set of images. This happened again and again, increasing speed greatly with time and continuing without end to bombard Flintgrease with sights.

A feeling of becoming overwhelmed filled Flintgrease, and he felt that he was about to become overloaded by the sheer amount of information that was being thrown at him. But he could not look away. Try as he might, his gaze could not be averted; he was locked staring at the fire.

The visions intensified in brightness as they further sped up, and so did the feeling of overwhelming information increase also. Flintgrease's thoughts were turning delirious, unable to cope with the sheer amount of information that was being fed to him. There were a thousand repressed thoughts and images screaming at at him, each demanding attention and forcing themselves into his mind. It was a deluge of things to see and understand, and as the number of sights increased, so did the strain on Flintgrease's mind because so much was being forced upon him.

The river of information was near bursting the banks of Flintgrease's mind.

Just as his delirium was expanding into unconsciousness, Eric stepped between him and the fire, and the experience ended.

Flintgrease let out a stifled breath as he quickly whipped his head away from the fire's grip before whatever just happened could lock him into sustained overload again. Whatever it was, though, Flintgrease knew it had to have been caused by the battleclaws. There was something unnatural about them, and whatever it was, it seemed to have destabilized what he had done to repress his firevisions. The resulting flood of the once levied visions had nearly overwhelmed him.

"We are ready." Eric stated.

"Ready for what?" Flintgrease quickly questioned, hiding his dazed state of being.

"Fleck deployment and checks. We will be adding to our defensive border." Eric took a helmet from shelf and tossed it over to Flintgrease. He caught it. "That helmet is made of Mu metal. It will protect you from the magnetic fields."

After swapping helmets, it took a few minutes to gather several small vole skin bags to deploy the flecks in. When placed in the proper formation, their power would be amplified and scramble the sense of direction for an owl flying in the airspace above.

Additionally, they would be taking along several larger Mu metal lined satchels to transport the flecks in and not be exposed to the dangerous magnetic fields.

Once those had been gathered, they took flight for the library where the flecks were stored and loaded their bags with flecks once they arrived. However, as they were near ready to be leaving the library, they were approached by a Lesser Sooty owl.

"Excuse me, Sir." She addressed Eric from behind as he was prepping a vertical takeoffthrough the sky port.

He sighed and turned around. "Yes?"

She continued on, "I have a message from Lieutenant Stryker."

"Well go on, give it to me." He snapped.

"Yes, right away." She adjusted her posture slightly and rattled off what Strkyer had told her to say. "Stryker noticed you and your ward flying toward the library, and he sent me to tell you that you do not have permission to deploy the flecks. Only a direct order from the High Tyto or Nyra herself would be acceptable when dealing with such valuable resources."

"Excuse me?" Eric crassly asked.

The Lesser Sooty blinked warily. "I am sorry sir, but he has ordered you to stand down and reserve the flecks for later when we know the Guardians' plan of attack."

"Frinkin' Splat." Eric snarled, "He'll get us all killed. Us all! We already have a minimalistic wall of flecks deployed, but those defenses need to be bolstered if we are to deny the Guardians that territory."

There was a long drawn out silence before the Lesser Sooty continued. "Additionally, he ordered that I escort Flintgrease to his division so he may be inducted into the ranks. He will be fighting in tonight's battle."

Flintgrease's gizzard dropped. He would actually be fighting? He did not know hot to fight, nor did he even have any training or weapons.

"Stryker... You frinking fool of an owl!" Eric's normally stoic personality had disappeared utterly. Currently, it was quite clear he was angry. "Flintgrease is not ready for combat."

"Stryker thinks otherwise, so much so that he is assigning him to his personal scouting and intelligence squadron directly under the command of one of his sergeants."

Eric gave an angry huff. "Fine. Take him, but tell Stryker that the High Tyto himself will bring his rage down on him should Flintgrease be hurt or killed."

The last part of that sentence referring to his injury or death did not particularly sooth Flintgrease's mind.

"Very well." The Lesser Sooty replied and then looked at Flintgrease. "Follow me. We are leaving."

She lifted off and Flintgrease followed.

It was only a fifteen minute flight to the Great Horns, a rock formation that jutted far into the sky and signified the eastern border of the ravine filled portion of the canyon lands.

Stationed not too terribly far away from the monolithic spires of stone that cut into the sky was a very large assembly of owls. There was an air of disorder, barely kept in reign by the strict discipline of Stryker and his officers. Even at the great distance, Flintgrease could hear a furious yelling that was invariable associated with the lieutenant.

"Get those patrols in the air! ...No, no! Split them into squads of five. No more, no less."

He and his officers being stationed on a ridge above the common soldiers, they projected a sense of power as they issued orders to defend against the expected attack due to arrive anytime between now and tomorrow night.

Overall, the expected fight was seen to be little potential threat because of the extreme lack of discipline and inferior numbers of the attacking forces of the Guardians. Still, being prepared meant higher numbers of enemy casualties. That was something that the Pure Ones were ready for.

Now that Flintgrease and the Lesser Sooty were nearing their destination, the Lesser Sooty turned her head in flight to Flintgrease and stated, "You can go the rest of the way. I have other duties to perform."

Flintgrease nodded and the other owl peeled away in flight. Glad that she was gone, Flintgrease did not like sharing airspace so close to such a lowly owl. She was a Tyto, but the lowest order of purity after all. She was barely better than any other species of impure owl, stupid, incompetent. Besides, she smelled bad... Well, at least that was what Flintgrease thought, but it really was his imagination molding his mind as the malleable piece of clay it was.

Now that Flintgrease was just a few hundred feet away, he could clearly see Stryker and his officers. Thoughtlessly, Flintgrease landed on the ridge and reported in.

"Sirs, Flintgrease reporting in as ordered, Sirs." His form was flawless, his stance, his salute, his speech. But as every head turned and glared him down, he knew he had made a mistake by approaching them directly.

Stryker swelled up with annoyance, "And who do you think you are Flintgrease, coming in like this and disrupting us? You had better have a good reason to disturb us."

Taken completely off guard, Flintgrease now realized he had just violated one of the many codes of conduct held by the Pure Ones. His next words must be well chosen. Though with apprehensive tones in his voice, Flintgrease managed to somewhat effectively rattle out his reason, "I received a notice to report to you, sir. It was the same one canceling fleck deployment. I thought I was to report directly to you, but I now see I am mistaken..." He trailed off.

The silent glares pierced him. It was odd though, from the ten or so owls there, most were not throwing looks of annoyance, but sheer curiosity. But nonetheless, there he sat perched, the silence devouring what courage he had left.

"Requesting orders... sir?" Flintgrease was craving something to break the silence. He didn't care what kind of order, even one of a disciplinary nature. He just wanted something to get him away from the deathly silence.

A wave of relief washed over Flintgrease as another began to speak, "Sir!" It was a Sergeant that was at Flintgrease's special ceremony speaking. He was staring out towards the Great Horns, "I think I may see several hostiles approaching."

Stryker diverted his attention to where the Sergeant was gazing, leaving Flintgrease feeling slightly more at ease.

"They are certainly flying slow," Stryker said to his Sergeant. "Let's wait a bit before we engage. Let's see how the devil's triangles work."

The Sergeant nodded and then was struck with an afterthought. "Sir, If I may." He paused waiting for Stryker to give a look of approval. When the Lieutenant did, he continued. "I would like to take a small scouting team to observe the effects that the triangles have. It might help refine usage in the future."

"Excellent suggestion Sergeant Eldridge. So excellent, that I myself was about to suggest it."

Flintgrease was almost disgusted by this owl's arrogance, but he was an officer of the Union. As such, Flintgrease was to show him utter respect.

"Assign your team as you see fit, and make it expedient. I doubt we will have much of a chance to see the effects."

The Sergeant shifted slightly, "Flintgrease, you are with me. Of course, if it is okay with you, lieutenant." He motioned towards Flintgrease, "He is familiar with magnetism and perhaps could report what we see better than any other owl."

Striker gave both Flintgrease and the Sergeant a poisonous look, but decided that it would be too much trouble to deal with them. After several seconds, he spat his response, "He's you're problem now. Get moving. Once you are finished, report back to me at this location."

The Sergeant nodded and gave a look at Flintgrease signifying it was time to leave. Flintgrease readily followed as the other lifted off. Several moments passed before they were out of hearing range.

"Be careful around Stryker. He tends to overreact when he is not shown proper respect." The Sergeant's voice was dry, but there was a small hit of pleased humor in his voice from seeing Stryker's reaction. He churred. "I hope you don't set all your commanding officers off like that."

Flintgrease shifted nervously, knowing how he had actually killed one of his commanding officers. Keeping this in mind, he replied, "You have no idea, sir."

"I hear that you got on the bad side of Corporal Travis a couple months ago just before he was killed."

Flintgrease's heart skipped and his wings froze momentarily. The last thing he wanted to do was to have a conversation with another owl about that particular 'accident'. Eric and Stryker had agreed to keep the incident a secret and order silence onto those who had witnessed it. There were only a few, lower ranking owls who should know about the incident.

Sergeant Eldridge carried on conversationally, "I heard that some recruit snapped while he was being disciplined. I don't blame him, but he got what he deserved when he was executed."

Flintgrease swallowed hard, knowing how massively lucky he was to have Eric looking out for him.

They were soon met up with five other owls who comprised Sergeant Eldridge's personal formation.

From that point, they flew without speaking until they had come close to their destination. Once there, though, the silence was broken.

"Sir!" A female voice cried, "Hostile spotted." She waved her wing upwards at an object that was clearly an owl of some form.

"How is that possible? We haven't even reached the fleck zone yet! They couldn't have come over." Flintgrease protested, but was rebuked by a harsh glare from another owl in the formation.

"Prepare to engage!" Sergeant Eldridge screeched.

"No! Wait. It's an owlipoppin!" Flintgrease replied in return, receiving glares from every owl in the formation a second time. "Look at how it's flying. Stiff winged like a gull, strongly affected by the wind, flying alone, not reacting to us. There is no way that is a Guardian."

Indeed these facts were true, but what had convinced Flintgrease it was an owlipoppin was one of his visions in the fire earlier. He couldn't quantify what it was that was telling him this was an owlipoppin or even how it was linked to the vision, but he just knew.

Silence fell on the formation for a second as the other members looked back at the black blotch outlined on the moonlit thunderhead that was approaching.

"I think... he may be right..." An owl said in a strained voice as he looked at the supposed owlipoppin. As soon as Flintgrease heard this, he took off in rapid flight to go intercept the owlish form.

The Sergeant was aghast, "Flintgrease! Do not Engage! I repeat, Do not Engage!" he screeched at the top of his lungs.

Flintgrease, in response, screeched back, "I'm not engaging! I'm Retrieving!"

Before Sergeant Eldridge could respond, Flintgrease had reached the owlish form which was indeed an owlipoppin. Reaching out and grabbing it, Flintgrease was hit with a case of deja vu.

Flintgrease looked at the owlipoppin in his talon and felt a smile caress his face. It was hard to believe that one of his visions in the fire had come true, but the smile faded as he worried about the nature of his powers of firesight's origin.

"Flintgrease!" The indignant screech of Sergeant Eldridge filled Flintgrease's earslits and made him wilf mid flight, "You had better be glad you were right."

"Yes Sir." he replied fearfully as the Sergeant and rest of the formation neared him.

Meeting him in the air and hovering in front of him, Sergeant Eldridge looked at the owlipoppin in his talons. "I don't like this one bit."

"Is everything okay sir?" one of the owls in the formation asked.

"No. The Guardians placed this here to lure us away. We need to get this information back to Stryker immediately before he sends forces to the wrong location." The sergeant then addressed Flintgrease again, "I need you to get those owlipoppin to Stryker immediately."

"Yes Sir." Flintgrease nervously acknowledged, the desire to not see Stryker again tugging at the back of his mind.

Sergeant Eldridge then added, "Once you have given him this information, join the forces of the first division and await further orders."

"Yes Sir." Flintgrease replied and then lifted into the air.

The flight was quick, but as Flintgrease neared where Stryker was stationed. His history with this owl had been anything but smooth, and he really did not want to further interaction with him. Ignoring this, he steadied himself and glided in to give his report, "Sir."

"What's that you have in your talons, Flintgrease?"

"It's an owlipoppin!" There was a collective gasp

Uglamore barked, "I knew they would try something like this! I just knew it! Alert the High Tyto and her Pureness at once."

"Nonsense!" Stryker bristled.

Flintgrease was taken off guard by the owl's statement and wondered how that was a logical maneuver. Surely it would be best if the High Tyto and his mate were to know of whatever deception the Guardians may have been planning, "It's a bluff. That's all. They are trying to distract us. Don't you understand? They dropped these over The Great Horns hoping to lure us there. But they'll enter through the Beak of Glaux. Almost as easy as The Great Horns. Mind you, that is where they will land now - The Beak of Glaux. These owlipoppen were to make us think they were coming through The Great Horns."

Flintgrease was revolted by this owl's pointless repetition, stating and restating what he thought about where the Guardians were coming from. It not only wasted time, but insulted the other officer's intelligence. And then it hit Flintgrease, Stryker was purposely speaking in such a repetitive manner to passive-aggressively insult the other officers who he perhaps perceived as a threat to his command.

"How can you be sure?" Uglamore pressed.

"I just am."

Once again, Flintgrease was revolted by this owl. He couldn't believe that he was basing a decision like this on a simple feeling and that he was letting his pride get in the way of a legitimate military decision.

"I think you should order a deployment of troops to the other side of the canyon." Uglamore said "We don't have flecks over there. We should set up a fleck zone there immediately."

"Only the High Tyto or her Pureness can do that." Stryker replied.

"Well go ask them!" Uglamore shrieked now.

"They are sleeping. I shall not disturb them. It is practically the evening of the hatching of their first chick. I shall not wake them. They are reserving their strength for the real battle."

"This could be the real battle. This could be the invasion!" Uglamore shouted.

Gagging at what he had just heard, Flintgrease felt a cold terror quickly seep in to him. An entire flank was open to attack from foe who would readily use the opportunity to their advantage. It did not take a tactical genius to see how quickly the situation could go very badly. "_Sprink the fact that the High Tyto's chick is supposed to hatch.."_ Flintgrease thought, "_I'll go deploy the flecks myself!"_

"Our patrols will report in anything that we need to worry about. We shall then act upon that information to suit our needs." Stryker replied, getting obviously annoyed.

"But why throw out the information we currently have? We should act upon that information as well, not wait for the Guardians to make the first move!" Uglamore shouted even louder.

Though the argument terrifying to an extent, Flintgrease could not help but feel several gazes staring him down. He turned his head and locked stares with one of the nearby officers. They held it for several moments before the officer turned his head to an owl beside him and whispered something. The other owl at first looked shocked, the expression followed by one disbelief a few moments later. He then threw a sideways glance at Flintgrease that embodied pure curiosity. Flintgrease returned it with a confused look and both of the owls surprisingly wilfed slightly. A moment later they regained their composure and affixed their attention back onto the argument.

"Listen to me Uglamore!" Stryker finally broke out into a yell and threateningly shaking his talon at Uglamore, "Should you keep questioning my orders, I will personally take the pleasure of tearing your wings off and shoving them down your throat. Do you understand me?"

At that moment, there was a high, piercing voice of a Sooty owl that caught Flintgrease's attention. At that moment, there was a shift in the wind that made the words incomprehensible, but it was enough to catch the attention of the owls on the ledge.

A second time, the voice screeched, but it was comprehendible this time. "They're coming! They're coming! The invasion is here! They came over the Needles! The invasion is here!"

All the owls understood him this time and wilfed, except for Stryker, who was suppressing a mild smile.

"Good, good." He churred softly, "Sergeant Stonefeather!" He said, quickly turning to face the Masked owl.

"Yes sir!" He quickly responded.

"Take the third division of troops and the Nyra Annihilators and engage the Guardians, but do not maintain combat. Retreat quickly into the canyons and fly to The Great Horns. Make sure that a sizable portion of the Guardian's forces are engaging, and do not be afraid to flaunt that the Nyra Annihilators are in the formation. I want to draw out their elite troops for this plan." Stryker then addressed another officer, "Sergeant Grimytalon, take half of the first division to relocate to The Great Horns and prepare to ambush the Guardians when they follow the third division into the air trench formed there. I will personally take the other half of the division to hide in the canyons along the route that the first division will retreat along. When the Guardians fly over, we will covertly follow and engage when the Guardians are trapped at The Great Horns. Now Follow your orders!"

The owls flew off to go follow their orders and Flintgrease too lifted off and followed Sergeant Grimytalon. "_Peh._" Flintgrease thought. _"That's a terrible name."_

Knowing not to approach the high ranking officer directly, Flintgrease instead asked one of the lower ranking officers that was flying with Sergeant Grimytalon, "Sir. Sergeant Eldridge ordered me to join the first division to assist in the battle. Awaiting orders."

Flintgrease was nervous on a number of levels for many good reasons, the foremost being the coming battle he would be fighting in, At least the officer replied without reprimanding him for some misconduct, alleviating his worries that he was not addressing him correctly. "Good, we need another soldier. You will be joining in with the secondary squadrons. Fly to the ridge to the east and look for..." The officer then proceeded to inform Flintgrease where he was to go and what he was to do once ther.

Obeying, Flintgrease flew to the described location with great speed. He arrived a few minutes later at a raised location where about one hundred Pure Ones were rallying, preparing to engage the enemy. He reported in, was given a pair of battleclaws, and assigned under the command of a corporal in charge of ten other owls.

Surprisingly, he had been assigned to the same squadron as Aves, something that made Flintgrease very happy.

Each squadron was clustered together enough that each was distinct from the others, even though they were close by. Flintgrease landed next to Aves when he joined into his particular squadron. "Aves. How are you doing?" He asked.

Aves was clearly surprised to see his friend. "Flintgrease. What are you doing here?"

"I am going to be fighting along side you. Do you think you are ready for this?"

Grinning widly, Aves nodded resolutely. "Absolutely. I'm ready to kill some enemies."

Flintgrease and Aves continued to quietly talk much like the other members of the squadrons. However, only three or four more minutes passed before on the horizon, with the thunderhead to their tails, the enemies could be seen approaching rapidly several leagues away

When the first signs of the enemy were seen, the lookout gave a signal and silence fell on the entire gathering as they became serious.

The Guardians main forces were gathered together in a large singular formation while flanking were about twenty small formations of five owls. Each of these formations were spaced far apart from the other and as a whole formed a very long line.

The entire enemy forces were flying on the leading wind of the approaching thunderstorm and were rapidly bearing down on the location of the gathered Pure Ones where Flintgrease was at.

With great speed and efficiency, each squadron of Pure Ones was assigned a target squadron of Guardians. Heart pounding, mind racing, Flintgrease lifted into the air with his squadron of ten to engage the Guardians' squadron of five head on.

It was to be a direct confrontation with each squadron engaging in a rush style, direct head on attack.

With the two forces flying strongly toward each other, it would only take a few minutes for them to meet and begin killing each other.

Flintgrease was terrified, he had minimal combat training and strongly believed that he would better serve the union by deploying flecks or something else strategic like that. That, though, was not an option. Off about two thousand feet to his side, he could see that the bulk of the first division had already engaged the main formation of Guardians while the smaller squadrons like his were about one minute from physical contact with their enemies.

One minute to prepare himself. It hardly seemed enough. Flintgrease took this time to pick one individual owl in the target formation that he would attack. Meanwhile, Flintgrease drew on the hatred he held for these owls. Much in the same way he forced himself to anger during his special ceremony, Flintgrease did the same now so that he would be emotionally ready to kill on demand.

Thirty seconds out, and Flintgrease had psyched himself into rage. He was ready -thirsty even- to kill these owls.

Ten seconds out, and Flintgrease was readying himself physically to attack when he heard something from above.

Frantically, he looked up and screeched "ABOVE ABOVE!"

Two seconds later, a six guardians that were diving from above struck the formation with terrible power.

Even with his warning, the squadron was not expecting the attack from above and the six Pure Ones that the Guardians had engaged were pierced with blades of strong metal. They died instantly.

Aves, Flintgrease, and three others of the squadron survived. There was no time to take advantage of the Guardians below who were now vulnerable because the original formation of five Guardians was near striking distance.

Momentum carrying them forward, the five survivors raised their claws and engaged the Guardians ahead.

Time ground to a halt as Flintgrease honed his spread, battleclaw armored talons onto his target twenty feet away. It so happened that Aves had picked the same target and was ahead of Flintgrease.

His friend locked talons with the enemy owl and Flintgrease followed behind and cleaved his battleclaws into the owl.

Or so he thought, but rather, the foe had rolled slightly in flight and Flintgrease only happened to sheer the flight feathers off of one of the owl's wings.

Flintgrease's momentum carried him onward and he began angling his flight to reingage. Meanwhile, Aves had come to a complete halt, locked in a deathmatch with the Guardian; meanwhile, the other three Pure Ones were still fighting.

However, there was one Guardian who was not occupied with a Pure One. He along with another were engaging one single Pure One at the same time and were quickly overpowering him. Flintgrease, frantic to save his fellow Tyto from death, power stoked with all his might to assist.

However, he was too far away, and did not reach his comrade in time. Outflanked by two opponents, he was quickly killed and his body fell to the ground below.

Flintgrease had no time to feel emotion for his fallen comrade because he knew that he had to help the others.

By now, Aves and his opponent had released talons, and the Guardian tumbled to the ground for a rough, but survivable landing. Though the young Pure One wished to finish his foe, he knew that it would be better served to engage another because his current one was no longer a threat.

Aves attacked one of the Guardians that was engaging the two other Pure Ones. Flying in with great speed, he stabbed at one of the Guardians with his battleclaws, but somehow the attack was blocked and he was knocked head over talons.

"Aves! NO!" Flintgrease yelled out, seeing what was approaching his helpless friend.

Before the young Barn owl could recover and defend himself, a large, white Snowy owl reached him and carved through his chest, leaving blood trailing from Aves' limb body as he fell to the ground far below and was crushed on impact.

Flintgrease could not believe his eyes. His friend had just been killed. Aves was dead. His wings almost locked and he nearly fell yeep in the following seconds, but Flintgrease was determined to avenge his friend's death.

He shot forward, barreling at the Snowy owl who had killed Aves and was now distracted by assisting his fellow Guardians kill the two other Pure Ones who had survived.

Not seeing Flintgrease engaging him, it was easy for the enraged Pure One to approach from the side with great speed and attack.

Flintgrease's battleclaws imbedded in the shoulder joint that joins body and wing in addition to the owl's abdomen. There was a shrill yell as Flintgrease tried to pull the claws from the owl's flesh but were snagged on tendon and bone in the joint.

Continuing his attack, Flintgrease used his free set of claws to stab where he could hear the owl's beating heart and silenced it.

The massive snowy owl screeched his last and fell from the sky.

Flintgrease had pulled his claws free and took a strong backwing stroke to distance himself from the falling owl. He took one brief moment to regain his bearings on the situation.

It was grim, only one Pure One remained alive, the other had been killed. Additionally, the six owls who had killed over half the formation in the ambush dive were seconds away from engaging.

The remaining Pure One saw this, and she hustled toward Flintgrease and they both retreated as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, the Guardians did not seem interested in engaging as they regrouped their formation and sent two of their soldiers to check on the now dead Snowy owl.

Meanwhile, the other squadrons of Pure Ones had met similar fates. Most were attacked from above in the same manner as Flintgrease's squadron, and there were few survivors. However, the bulk of the first division had engaged the Guardians and were successfully luring them into Stryker's planned trap. Whether or not the trap would work, though, was of serious question. The Guardians has sustained minimal losses. Indeed, the number was negligible.

Once that he realized that he and the other Pure One were not being pursued, the adrenaline began to wear off and Flintgrease started shaking in flight. He had just gone through the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced, and only now was the death that he saw beginning to set in.

He just couldn't believe that Aves was dead.

Flying back to the ridge he had been perched on earlier, Flintgrease was met up by the other survivors. There were not many; maybe two or three per squadron, though four of the ten squadrons were completely unaccounted for.

By now, it was raining terribly hard, and lightning had ignited some dry brush in this region. Fire was beginning to spread through the canyonlands billowing thick smoke, further complicating matters. The Guardians were known for their expertise flying not only winds from storms, but also flying through the thick smoke and the violent air patterns of forest fires.

Whatever excitement Flintgrease had felt for this coming battle had turned to thick dread. This was not going to be an easy battle, and for all indications, the fate of the Pure Ones would rely upon the outcome.


	20. Losing Ground

The members of the squadrons, Flintgrease included, who had survived the initial head on attack were ordered to fall back deeper into Pure One territory and it was well over fifteen minutes before they had regrouped enough to receive new orders.

By now, the fires had spread and reproduced like mice - with great efficiency and speed. Unfortunately, though, the fire unlike the aforementioned rodents was not edible and instead created a thick, choking barrier that barricaded the entire airspace of St. Aegoleous with a opaque, gray region of no visibility.

As such, the enemy and their movements were concealed and the Pure Ones needed information to plan their defense.

The remaining twenty three of the one hundred owls were too few in number to be any notable contribution to the fighting capabilities of Pure Ones' forces and their capabilities would be better used gathering information on targets to strike. The Guardians would certainly have claimed certain areas in order to deposit their weapons, place their wounded, and use as a rallying point for their troops. To find one of these locations and strike it could deal a very effective physical and psychological blow to the Guardians of Ga'Hoole.

So Flintgrease and the other owls were placed into pairs of two and were told which regions they were to patrol to look for these key points to attack. If anything of interest is seen, one owl would be sent back to report the information while the other remains hidden to monitor the location and determine a point of weakness.

With that, they were ordered into flight and began their mission.

As Flintgrease and his companion, a Masked owl, began flying the path they were ordered to, the first things that were apparent to them was the thick smoke and rain.

The rain watered down their feathers, weighed them down, and made flight difficult. This increased exertion was poorly matched with the suffocating smoke, so when one would take a deep breath, choking and coughing was sure to follow. Even with his transparent eyelids held closed protecting his eyes, Flintgrease's eyes were watering profusely and further increased difficulty of seeing.

Thankfully, though, the smoke obscured their location to the enemy; however, because of its thickness, they were required to fly low to the ground to see what was below. It was Flintgrease's suggestion that they fly as fast as possible so that if they pass over enemies on the ground, they will have a head start in speed and will be able to slip away before the Guardians on the ground have a chance to enter flight.

So that is what they did.

The patrol carried on like this for ten to twenty minutes as the owls searched for anything of note.

Suddenly, as the two flew with great speed, a flicker of light caught their eyes through the thick smoke. Oddly, this light came from eye level, signifying that the two were flying lower than they thought through the tall ridges and spires of St. Aegoleous. They adjusted their course slightly and came slightly closer to what they saw.

It was the light of burning torches reflecting off of battleclaws and other weapons.

Only the Guardians used torches.

Flintgrease and the Masked owl understood that they had found a weapons cache, and the Masked owl nodded to Flintgrease. Flintgrease nodded back and the Masked owl flew off to report their findings.

Flintgrease meanwhile continued flying, intending to fly into the smoke and hide himself as he circled back to get a closer look at the target.

At the moment, Flintgrease was flying over a location that was ablaze with fire, casting an especially thick column of smoke upwards.

Holding his breath and trying to not enter into a coughing fit, he continued onwards with great speed. However, it was only several seconds before the smoke in front of him was revealed to be pitch black.

He only had a fraction of a second to react, and he did just that.

Pulling a ninety degree turn to fly strait up, Flintgrease came within a very dangerous threshold of slamming full speed into the sheer face of a cliff.

He was too shaken by his close impact to sigh a sigh of relief when he averted disaster, so he instead simply used the extremely strong updraft to propel him upwards with little expenditure of energy on his part.

He was moving at a breakkneck pace once he reached the top of the cliff and began to level off.

In front of Flintgrease was a dark region where the smoke was ever so slightly thicker, but he paid little attention to it because it was like many other areas where the smoke varied in density. Suddenly the smoke ahead of him shifted to take the exact shape of an owl. For a split second, Flintgrease was reminded of his firevisions and thought this may be an extension of those powers. But then he realized that the shape was a very real owl.

There was no time to react. Flintgrease barreled headlong into the owl, the resulting collision causing the helmets of both owls to part ways with their respected heads.

The world was spinning around Flintgrease, but he was dimly aware that both helmets had been sent on the same trajectory he was on by his sheer momentum. In any other situation, Flintgrease would have found such a fact amusing, but this was not just any situation. He knew he had just collided with a Great Gray, what could only be a Guardian. For a dizzying moment, Flintgrease saw both helmets in his field of vision and they reminded him of two eggs falling. Eyesight still blurry, he grabbed the closest helmet to him while simultaneously reclaiming his flight from the tumble he was in.

Putting it on, Flintgrease realized that the helmet was not his because it was far too large, but he didn't care because he had a helmet and his enemy did not. That gave him an advantage.

With one great heave of his wings, he came to a complete stop and quickly began looking for the other owl.

Trembles of fear were shooting through his entire body as he was anticipating the owl to attack him, and his senses were sharp. This would be a one on one fight against an owl twice his size, weight, and strength.

The odds were not in his favor.

And then the owl emerged from the smoke, flying incredibly fast. But Flintgrease was ready. As the owl spread its talons to pierce him, Flintgrease lowered his head so the claws hit his helmet. A bright shower of sparks rained from the glancing strike and Flintgrease began a very quick roll. He let his legs and talons sling outwards, slashed out with them. But they barely clipped the tail of the Great Gray and only severed the tiniest sliver of feather. An instant later while Flintgrease was upside down, he angled his wings so he would perform a belly in loop to get behind and above the Great Gray.

The maneuver worked and put Flintgrease reasonably well behind the Great Gray while facing the same direction. But the Guardian was quick and reacted the moment after Flintgrease had the prime location. It disappeared into a very thick part of the smoke, blending in perfectly.

_"Frinkin' splat owl"_ Flintgrease cursed as he wished he could tell the different shades of gray apart. He slowly circled over the pocket of smoke that the owl had vanished into, scanning for it.

Suddenly, a loud, taunting chorus arose out of the smoke.

_You helmet stealing creep,_

_I'm gonna make you go yeep,_

_You think you so tuff?_

_Well I say I have had enough._

_I'm gonna pound, break, and grind ya,_

_You may run but I'm gonna find ya,_

_You think you so neat?_

_You won't live past your defeat._

_You Pure One scum,_

_You're gonna run._

_You dumb birds run till you're dead,_

_Your to dumb to fly instead._

_But you helmet stealing splat,_

_You fly worse than a bat,_

_So I'll get my helmet from your head,_

_Because you will be cold and dead._

The song, taunt, rant - Flintgrease couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be - Whatever it was whipped him into a frenzy. As the owl spiraled around him taunting him, he felt a rage building in him. It was a rage that turned his entire body cold as he envisioned breaking the Great Gray's neck. By the time the owl finished its taunt, it had circled around and was beginning another attack run.

Emerging from the smoke directly in front of Flintgrease, the owl's attack pattern was the same as last time. He barreled in, battle clawed talons spread for the kill. Flintgrease's rage had blinded him, and he shot forward to meet the Great Gray, letting loose an unearthly screech. Whether it was the screech or Flintgrease's suicidal attack pattern that startled the Guardian, he almost seemed to flinch for a moment. But immediately afterwards, an expression of delighted determination caressed the owl's face and he met Flintgrease headlong. The two locked talons and began plummeting.

Immediately, Flintgrease realized that he had made a terrible mistake. Wings locked to his sides by the larger owl, Flintgrease was unable to spread them because the Great Gray was bashing his own wings into Flintgrease's side and making it impossible to open his wings. Should Flintgrease even dare to do the same, one or both his wings would be broken by the much larger owl. Oddly, Flintgrease was not scared in the least. His anger was hot enough to boil water, and all fear in him violently evaporated away much in the same way as a drop of water on a hot coal.

A list of possible retaliations flickered through Flintgrease's mind in less than a second. Perhaps he could try biting the other owl's neck open. No, because the back of his head would be completely vulnerable and the owl could simply bite through his spine like that of a mouse or rabbit. Maybe he could try altering their fall and getting the better position to fight like with Corporal Travis. No, the Great Gray's wings are too large and controlled to much air for Flintgrease to cope with. Besides, he could never get his wings extended enough in the first place.

There was nothing he could do that was without risk, and he could not wast time because he was locked at the talons with this.

All these thoughts flashed through Flintgrease's mind in less than two blinks of an eye before they were cut off by the Great Gray lurching forward trying to bite him in the neck.

Apparently, the owl had the same idea as Flintgrease.

Now, Flintgrease was becoming scared, there was little more time before impact, and it was clear that this owl was intending on driving him into the ground.

Forgetting the fear of having his spine severed by a quick bite from Guardian, Flintgrease quickly brought his head to his talons and bit through the vole leather bindings to the claws. With a simple flap of the wings, Flintgrease's talons slipped out and he was free from the death spiral.

For one brief moment, he took great amusement in the look of utter bewilderment on the Great Gray's face as it looked up to see Flintgrease out of its grip. But as the owl plunged into the thick smoke below, Flintgrease grimly realized that he had lost a significant means of defense against this owl. His heart began beating faster from fear, fast enough that it almost hurt.

He started flying straight upwards as fast as he could. He had no idea if the Guardian was dead or alive, but the only thing he wanted was to retreat to safety. Very much not like a Pure One to cower away like such, but Flintgrease had a very legitimate reason to be scared.

While plunging upwards through the smoke, Flintgrease saw something that set his gizzard aflutter. A shift in the wind had cleared the smoke from this particular part of the airspace and formation of five Pure Ones not three hundred feet away. Apparently, they were passing through to get to the Great Horns where the largest part of the battle was taking place.

"Siblings! I need you!" Flintgrease screeched the Oath of Distress that Pure Ones often use to convey they are in mortal danger. The squadron quickly responded and quickly began powerstroking directly for Flintgrease.

But as soon as they began doing so, Flintgrease's gizzard plummeted. The smoke free air that Flintgrease saw the formation through shifted. It widened and exposed the Guardians' weapons cache and a group of seven Guardians.

The seven below took off directly for the formation of Pure Ones above. The five Pure Ones had no clue that the Guardians were engaging them through the thick smoke below

Flintgrease almost went yeep, but he managed to yell out, "Brethren! Look out from below! Look out from below!" But it was to no avail. Either they did not hear him, or they did not understand.

The Guardians shot up into the formation, and Flintgrease saw three of the Pure One plummet to the ground with severed wings, heads, tails, or all three. The other two managed to lock talons with their attackers and began plummeting to the ground.

Flintgrease simultaneously retched a pellet and went yeep. As he was falling, he could not focus on regaining flight, instead, his mind was swarming with the horrible images of fellow Pure Ones being mangled and killed. His wings and neck hurt in sympathetic pain for those he just saw killed, and he could not tear from his mind the images Aves bleeding and falling from the sky.

The Great Gray shot out of the smoke directly below wielding two burning branches forcing Flintgrease to react or die. He managed to break his yeepishness in time to avoid a direct hit from a burning branch. Instead, it hit him on the underside of the wing, searing his skin, burning feathers, and sending intense pain down his left side.

Trying to retaliate, Flintgrease tried slashing out with his bare talons, but missed. The Great Gray continued off and disappeared into a nearby cloud of smoke.

Flintgrease nearly took off after the owl, but was struck by a very sickly feeling. His entire body ached and felt weak as if he had a severe case of a virus. He stayed hoovering where he was and tried to quell the feeling.

He knew the cause. Flintgrease just realized that he was not going to survive this incident. He envisioned his dead body with deep gashes, torn off wings, burned to an unrecognizable degree. He couldn't shake the image. It haunted him as he desperately tried to clear his mind and focus on the battle.

He went yeep again, and he was not too far from the ground already. He did not have very far to fall before he hit it. The Great Gray reemerged from the smoke and slammed the extinguished end of a burning branch against Flintgrease's side, knocking the yeepishness out of him. He caught himself midflight, and began frantically looking for the attacker.

At that moment, a dark outline began to make itself shown in the thick smoke, followed by a second shadow. His gizzard lept to see the shadows materialize into the forms of two Pure Ones from the formation, but it soon sank to see the shadows of seven Guardians materializing behind them.

He heard the Great Gray's voice boom over the heavy wind and raging fires below, saying, "I can handle these! Get to the Great Horns and try to help break our assault forces out."

The voice of a Saw Whet ringed out in response, "Roger that Twilight." And with that, the formation of Guardians broke off. The odds were now three to one in Flintgrease's favor, and he was intending on using them.

Quickly flying over to the two surviving Pure Ones, Flintgrease fell in beside them and a new sense of strength surged through him. He immediately recognized a Screech Owl as a captured St. Aegoleous Lieutenant, and the other owl, a Barn owl, had an odd familiarity around her.

The Great Gray, who was named Twilight, was shortly behind Flintgrease. By the time Flintgrease had reached the formation and fallen in with his comrades, there was the bright streaking flash of a burning branch sweeping among the three Pure Ones. It completely missed every owl but succeeded in disrupting the formation.

"Stay together!" The screech of the Barn owl rose over the battle.

Flintgrease was certain that he knew this owl. The voice held an odd familiarity that left a warm and content feeling in Flintgrease's gizzard that gave him further strength in contrast to the terror and anticipation of a battlefield. He did not have time to contemplate the feeling, as the Great Gray had looped around and was beginning a second attack run.

"We can't get close to that owl flailing those branches. You two prepare to flank him from behind while I draw out his attacks." The female owl whispered out of the side of her beak to her two comrades.

Flintgrease and the Screech owl prepared themselves and the female Barn owl took several wingstrokes forward to meet the rapidly approaching Great Gray.

He gave a swift swing at the Barn owl, closely followed by a second. She managed to evade both his attacks and retaliated with a slash of her battleclaws, slicing the tips of several gray breast feathers off of the Great Gray.

Meanwhile, Flintgrease and the old St. Aegoleous officer flew indirect arcing paths towards the two combatants to get at the large gray owl from his unguarded sides and back.

They arrived right as the Barn owl was struck with the extinguished end of a branch and was sent tumbling backwards but soon recovered. Flintgrease engaged from the owl's right side, trying his best to deal damage while fighting bare talon. The Screech owl, engaging from the left, stopped mid flight, wheeled about, and lashed out at the Great Gray.

With his attention split to both sides of him, the Great Gray had no defense and was struck. He staggered in the air upon impact.

As Flintgrease and the other Barn owl were going in for the kill, streaks of brown lit the air as a Barn owl and two Great Horned owls swooped in to protect the Great Gray.

It was enough to make Flintgrease and the female owl stop mid flight and try to figure out just how many more Guardians had just come. However, the Screech owl immediately changed targets from the Great Gray to two of the approaching owls. In conjunction with the Screech owl's actions, one of the Great Horned owls shifted into an attack posture; a posture that was aimed at the Guardians.

The Guardian Barn owl had gotten to the Great Gray just as the attacking Great Horned owl reached him. Grabbing one of the Great Gray's burning branches, the Barn owl quickly slammed the burning end of the stick against the attacking Great Horned owl, sending her spinning downwards with her primaries on fire.

Flintgrease and the other Pure One had retreated several wingbeats away from Great Gray and were trying to engage the Guardian Barn owl. Through the fighting, Flintgrease couldn't help but notice a morbid look of amusement on the face of the Barn owl that had just set the Great horned owl on fire.

_"Glaux! They're killing their own owls!" _Flintgrease exclaimed to himself both deeply confused and repulsed by the barbaric Guardians.

"Watch your tail feathers, Soren!" The remaining Great Horned owl boomed. The burly owl was supporting the Great Gray in flight now.

The look of amusement on the owl's face changed to a cold look found only on battlefields as he began tracking the Screech owl roaring up from behind. Suddenly, the Screech owl looked distracted and confused as it's eye was caught by a bright glint. In the next moment, it was impaled by a pale blue splinter of ice.

The Screech owl gasped, rolled over, and fell to earth. The actions lasting from the Screech owl's first lash at the Great Gray to the Screech's death happened very quickly in fewer than ten seconds.

Both wilfing and feeling yeepish, Flintgrease and the female owl knew they were not going to win this fight, so they turned and began powerstroking away.

A concerned call of the Barn owl named Soren rose through the night, "Is Twilight all right?" Flintgrease turned his head to see the Barn owl landing on a ledge where the Great Horned owl and the injured Great Gray had landed moments before. Relief washed over Flintgrease's gizzard when he saw that he and the other Pure One were not being pursued.

The Guardians disappeared from sight through the thick smoke and the two Pure Ones continued flying to the south for several minutes before feeling safe enough to stop and assess the situation.

Landing on a ledge nearby, the female owl took off her helmet and gave an exhausted sigh while rubbing her head with her talons.

Flintgrease couldn't believe his eyes. "Mum!" He exclaimed with rash excitement, throwing off his helmet. He did not know why he was glad to see her. He had once brooded over what his parents had done to him by abandoning him, but beyond the festering hatred he held for them, he had barely thought of anything relating to them since he was informed they had been killed. Eric and to an infinitely lesser extent Amelia had taken their place and it seemed odd to think that he ever even lived in the same hollow as this owl.

Windy quickly jerked her head around to catch him in her gaze. Flintgrease was taken aback to see the tell tale signs of moonblinking in her eyes.

An overwhelming cocktail of emotions filled Flintgrease ranging from joy, confusion, to resentment. He was so glad to see his mum again, but he did not want her to know it. It would seem like he would be betraying Eric to let her know. And simmering deep within him were anger and the feeling of betrayal over being abandoned that took precedent over his other emotions.

"Flint?" She asked, eyes clearing slightly, but still remaining hazy.

Highly influenced by resentment, Flintgrease coldly replied, "My name is Flintgrease now. What you named me means nothing anymore."

There was a very clear flush of pain that swept across Windy, "Flint... What-" She was cut off.

"You never loved me, you left me to die. I hate you!" Flintgrease defiantly screeched, though much of his anger was drawn from pent up feelings of fear from the battle. Much less was actually drawn from what had happened, "You took my sister and left me! Why!?"

The flush of pain on Windy became even more apparent. She could not tell him why she and Mercury did what they did, not here, not now. "Flint," She sobbed quietly, "We made a mistake. However much you may hate me, I hate myself more for what we did to you."

They made eye contact. In those few moments, Flintgrease could see how broken Windy was for what she had done. All his anger faded away. "Mum, I didn't..." He stammered softly, "I didn't mean what I said. Things have been so hard for me, Mum."

He leaned up against her. It was a comforting, but yet odd sensation. He was so much smaller the last time he saw her, but now, he stood at her height. He wanted to cuddle up in the thick and warm feathers of her under belly, to climb in between her wings and body and be enveloped by a feeling of protection that until now he had forgotten that even existed.

But that was impossible now. He was too big, and any sense of security would be hollow and would distract from their efforts to survive.

But Windy gently cuddled him as if he were still a little chick, "You've grown so much, and I've missed seeing it. I've missed it because I left you, and I am eternally sorry for that." For the first time in a long time, Flintgrease felt comforted. "I'm here now, Flint. I'm here now." She soothed.

A ripple of excruciating emotional pain shot through Flintgrease when his mother called him 'Flint'. It reminded him of his name change and the ceremony inevitably linked to it. It reminded him of the other owls he had killed and that, in his mind, the owls killed could have easily been his mum who is lovingly holding him.

He was ashamed. Ashamed beyond words in fact. Ashamed as sin itself.

Feeling grief beyond words, he still felt compelled to tell his mother about his new name, "Mum... I was given a new name. I go by Flintgrease now."

"Flint, please, don't go by that name. Why would you ever change your name?" She asked in a hurt tone.

"Mum..." Flintgrease trailed off, not wanting to tell his mother about the happenings during his special ceremony and the days afterwards. He was unspeakably ashamed of his actions during his TUPSI, but the words came unwillingly from his beak in a quivering and ashamed manner, "I had my Special Ceremony, Mum."

The feathers on and around Windy's face compressed in a fashion similar to wilfing and she pushed away slightly from Flintgrease. Unlike wilfing, though, the action showed emotional shock and turmoil, not fear.

"No. Flint." Windy's voice was small and contained pure shock. "You didn't..."

"Yes." Flintgrease squeaked quietly. The second afterwards, he could hear his mother's gizzard clench tightly. There was no way he could tell her about the other two owls.

"Flint," Her voice cracked and her eyes were filled with pain. An agony filled silence followed, and the once euphoric feeling of protection morphed into a feeling of entrapment by his mother's fears.

Finally, to break the silence, Flintgrease asked a question, "Is Da still alive?"

A tear dripped from Windy's eyes. They retained much of the look of being moonblinked, of this Flintgrease was sure. Eric had taught him about much the different levels of moonblinking and how the previous residents of St. Aegoleous moon blinked their forces. Besides, Flintgrease had seen with his own eyes the effects of moonblinking. Windy was only partially moonblinked, but seeing her struggle like this to even keep her thoughts from falling into a hazy dullness was almost too much for Flintgrease.

Slowly and quietly, she answered, "I don't know. He had been in the second division when we fought with the Pure Ones in times past." She cringed from a tremulous headache moonblinked owls have when remembering faint memories. Hesitantly, she continued. "But he had been promoted to Metal Beak's guard that one day, the day before we abandoned our service as hireclaws."

The things Flintgrease had picked up upon about his parents were right. But even now, he was shocked to have his Mum confirm that she and Mercury were hireclaws. However, these were thoughts for another time.

"The second division is engaged with the Guardians at the Great Horns." Flintgrease told his mother, "But I don't know where the High Tyto is."

Windy's face turned stony, and she became resolute in stance as she forced the moonblinking behind her. "We are going to find him, we are going to find Stellaris, and we are leaving."

"Mum." Flintgrease timidly squeaked, "Stellaris is dead."

Windy's wings drooped to her sides and touched the ground as her beak fell open. She then turned her head away from Flintgrease and began trying to contain her emotional suffering.

"At least, I think she is," Flintgrease tried to comfort his mother by giving her the hope Stellaris was still alive, "I was told she had been killed by the same owl that told me you and Da had been executed. And you are not dead; she might still be alive. But the owl that told me she died said that she was killed because of her color."

Windy had managed to get herself under control, but her voice still resonated with the deep, soulful pain that is only experienced by parents that have outlived their children. "Black Barn owls never live long."

That was all she said for several gizzard wrenching seconds, but she finally forced herself out of the emotional yeepishness. "We need to find your father, Flint."

"My name is-" Flintgrease was cut off.

"Your NAME is FLINT!" Windy screeched, enraged at herself for letting the family get drug into the situation, enraged at the Pure Ones for what they had done to Flint, and enraged at the world for being so cruel.

He wilfed, and then blinked. "Yes Mum." he timidly complied. And so Flint's name ceased to be Flintgrease.

Windy was about to lift off, however Flint stopped her.

"Mum, we won't last if we go the overground route." Flint stated flatly, "I know of a cave system that will get us half way there without having to worry about the Guardians getting us."

"Where is it?" She asked.

"Follow me, one of the caves is not far away." Flint, followed by Windy, lifted off to the north-east after re-donning their helmets. A few moments into the flight, Flint remembered a question from earlier that had long been weighing on his gizzard.

"Mum," He quietly asked, "Why did you and Da leave me?"

Windy stiffened in flight. _"How can I possibly tell him why?"_ She thought solemnly to herself. _"I can't risk telling him. Especially not now."_

"I am so sorry Flint," She shifted nervously, feeling the shallowness of her own words, "I can't begin to explain how sorry I am for all of this, Flint."

"But why did you leave me?" Flint pressed the matter, wanting to know why he had been abandoned, deeply fearing what he himself was, is, and might someday be.

Windy was forced into an impossibly difficult situation. She must tell him her reasons eventually, but now just was not the time.

"It must wait, Flint. It must wait."

Flint dearly wanted explanations, reasons, anything to tell him why he had been abandoned and anything to tell him whether or not he was a bad owl for killing the owls he had killed. But he never got the chance to continue his questions, as a sudden feeling crept over him.

There were heartbeats coming from above. They appeared suddenly, and they were very close.

The smoke in this region was far thinner than the surrounding area, so the formation of over ten Guardians was clearly visible as it flew out of thicker billows above. Flint's gizzard seized as the mother and son pair accelerated to their top speeds and dropped down low to closely skirt the rocky terrain.

"How much farther to the entrance?" Windy frantically asked, casting a glance backwards to see the Guardians had engaged them and were only about fifty feet behind in hot pursuit.

Flint looked at the main canyon cutting deep into the ground off in the near distance. "It is in the wall of the canyon, near the base." The canyon's lip was not far, but the entire time it took to get there, Flint was cursing the Guardians and their stealth.

They reached the edge of the canyon and entered a dive that quickly brought them to the floor of the canyon.

"There it is! I see it!" Flint saw a dark void not too far to the north.

Five of the Guardians were still pursuing, the other five had broken off and were flying further up the canyon, presumably to the Great Horns. Better odds, but still not good.

Suddenly, Flint and Windy were enveloped in the darkness of the tunnel.

The dim was lighting made it difficult to fly safely, but Flint and Windy had an advantage over non-tytos. Their extraordinary hearing as Barn owls is so refined that they can fly by sound. Though the ability is rudimentary compared to that of bats, the returning echos of heartbeats, breaths, and tensing muscles were enough to guild them through the absolute darkness.

They flew a short distance at full speed before Windy began voicing her concern.

"Flint," She gasped in between breaths. "We... have to slow down. It's not safe."

Flint was becoming excited, for he could hear the sounds of the pursuing Guardians growing fainter and fainter.

"Mum, just a little farther! We're Losing Them!"

"Flint! We're going to kill ourselves!" Windy was insistent.

"Mum! There is a fork in the tunnel ahead. We need to keep it up and get there! We can

lose the Guardians!"

Windy had gone to an even harder tone of insistence, "Flint, No!"

"Please, Mum, we can do it! We'll be safe!"

But as the jubilant words were coming from Flint's beak, the sound of flesh slamming into stone and breaking bones filled his earslits and his mother's heartbeat disappeared. It took a moment for Flint to realize that she was no longer with him.

He frantically landed on the ground and slid on the tips on his claws before coming to a stop. Darkness engulfing him, the sounds of his own heart were muffled and dull in his horrified earslits.

"Mum?!" He screeched, his own words sounding distant and hollow.

No response.

He screeched again, but louder and in agony. "MUM!" Flint remembered the last time he yelled these words as an abandoned chick, and the memory did not make him feel any better.

Everything a blur, Flint suddenly heard a faint heartbeat and quickly fluttered in the direction it was coming from.

The light from the fire wielded by the Guardians was slowly beginning to illuminate the tunnel. Flint's eyes fell upon a pile of feathers lie at the base of a column of limestone splitting the tunnel. It was all he could do to approach it.

Getting there, his wings drooped to their sides, his talons locked, and every muscle in his body clenched as his gizzard felt like it had been torn asunder.

"Mum?" He quietly whispered.

There was a fluid filled rasp, one that reminded Flint of the last rasp given by the Great Horned owl. He froze, but relaxed when he heard another, this one slightly stronger.

"Fl..int..." Windy wheezed.

"I'm here mum, I'm here." He gently insisted, nesting down next to her and working his way underneath one of her wings. He had everything worked out in his mind. He would stay here with his mother and die with her at the talons of their pursuers.

"Flint... please..."

"I'm staying, Mum. I promise, I won't leave you."

"No, Flint." She rasped stronger this time, "Leave me. Don't let me die... knowing you died also."

The words hit Flint like stone. "I... I... can't Mum." Just then, the Guardians turned the corner.

Flint jerked up and pulled on his mum's wing, "Let's go! Come on! Please!" He knew it was hopeless even trying, but he simply could not leave her here.

"I, can't..." She moaned.

Their pursuers landed a few feet away and did not attack; their motives for doing so remained a mystery to Flint.

"Mum!" he yelled and cast a quick glance at one of the Guardians. Not taking the time to process the look of pity on the owl's face, Flint tore off down the tunnel away from them.

Two Guardians moved in around Windy's crumpled body, blocking her from view. One looked directly at Flint and screeched an order at the three following owls.

At that brief point in time, Flint almost surrendered to the Guardians. He wanted to be with his mother, he wanted the fighting to end. But the thought that he would have to see the effects of her injuries, to see her die because of his insistence to keep flying terrified him.

_"Just like the Great Horned Owl." _Flint cried to himself,_ "Murdered just like the Great Horned Owl"_

Flint found himself flying away from the Guardians as fast as he could. He was reckless, glancing into the cave wall, slapping the ground and ceiling with his wings, not thinking ahead. He didn't care if he killed himself, he only wanted to flee from the scene behind him. He was too shocked to cry, to broken to feel sad. That would come in due time. But now, he felt the full, unfiltered horror of his actions.

He flew until he was lost in the intricate maze of caverns and tunnels. Then he stopped and listened.

Silence, beautiful silence and seclusion.

He began to tremble at the thought of everything that just happened, but he did not have time to be affected by his emotions as a dim glow began to emit from the tunnel Flint had just flown through. It was the glow of fire, of burning branches, and it was getting brighter.

The Guardians were coming, and Flint was going to face them and reap his agony onto them. Three or more armed owls against a single unarmed one were suicidal odds, but for now, Flint could care less. He rose up and flew in the faint light towards the approaching owls.

The light was bright as he neared a twist in the cave that obscured the sight of the approaching owls, and wingbeats and the clinking of battleclaws in flight could be heard.

Flint hastened himself,and then spread his claws wide in preparation of a strike as he neared the twist. Turning the corner there were over a dozen owls. Flint brought his claws to bear and gave an unearthly screech, ready to plunge into the closest owl to him.

But his eyes widened in horror and he broke his attack, leaving him to collide headlong with another Barn owl.

He had just attacked a formation of Pure Ones. And he was wearing the helmet of a Guardian.

After slamming into one of his brother Tytos, Flint tumbled the short distance to the ground and landed with a resonating clang as his helmet struck stone and was flung off his head to ricochet loudly nearby.

Lying in a daze on the ground, Flint through blurry eyes saw the helmet slowly grinding to a halt on the ground in front of him. Dread crept over him as he realized that his very brothers, the Pure Ones, most certainly would think he was a Guardian.

A strong set battle clawed talons jerked Flint from lying on his side, to lying on his back. He could see several of the Pure Ones standing around him, and the Tyto that had just rolled Flint over looked as if ready to give a death blow. But the owl instead wilfed as he looked Flint over and an expression of terrified surprise fell over his face.

"By Glaux's name..." He gasped then stepped back, releasing Flint and saying, "Your Pureness, Sir, come look at this one.

There was a terrifying, dark grumble that sent terror and awe through Flint. He knew that voice well enough to mimic it many nights ago.

Moments passed and the figure of a large, battle worn Barn owl threw its shadow over Flint. Looking into the coal black eyes burred in the mask of his honored leader, Flint thought he saw the slightest trace of a yellow glow emanating from them. The obscured visage has hard and deadly when it first looked upon Flint, but it softened into subtle perplexity as moments passed.

The owl standing next to the High Tyto turned his head and quietly awed, "Sir, the resemblance is uncanny."

Usually the High Tyto would have inflicted punishment on any owl who dared say something so obvious to him, but he overlooked it and simply agreed, "Yes, it is."

Several moments passed as Flint was bound by yeepishness that was stronger than any rope or chains. Finally, the silence was broken by another owl standing behind the two, "Sir, the Burrowing Owl has been caught and bound; the bait is laid for your brother. With utmost respect, we must act now else our planning will have been in vain."

The High Tyto seemed to not hear what was just stated to him as he stood without speaking for several moments. However he finally responded. "Stoneclaws, get over here and make sure this owl does not flee. After I have slain my brother, I shall return and take him."

There was a quiet response, and an owl stepped over to Flint while the High Tyto and the others prepared to take flight again. The owl wilfed as he looked down onto Flint.

A complex flurry of emotions filled Flint when he recognized the owl, "Da!" he managed to utter, still winded from the earlier impact.

Mercury was facing his worst nightmare. The High Tyto had seen Flint and he knew who he was. He couldn't let that happen, for the sake of the world, Mercury could not let Kludd have Flint.

"Flint." Mercury uttered through the hazy fog of moonblinking, "I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean?" Flint asked in fear as Mercury raised his battleclaws to kill him.

The battleclaws accelerated downward to Flint's chest and the sound of metal piercing flesh filled the night.


	21. Deathly Experiences

Flint was laying on his back, looking up in horror. His gizzard was filled with terror as Mercury began to propel his battle claws into his chest.

The sickening sound of an owl being stabbed filled the small tunnel and Mercury let out a pain filled gasp. His battle clawed talons faltered in their approach to impale Flint, and a moment later, Mercury collapsed to the ground.

Flint's shock was indescribable as the High Tyto forcefully removed his fire claws from Mercury's back, causing him to screech in agony as a whiff of burned flesh filled the tunnel. Under any other circumstances, he would have instantly killed Mercury or any other owl that would disobey an order, especially to the magnitude as Mercury just did. However, he was uncharacteristically concerned about another owl, namely Flint.

In a cold expression, the High Tyto looked over Flint for injuries. Flint was in such a shock that he was not thinking, but a quick but feeble yell from Mercury caught his attention.

"Fly Flint! Fly!"

Mind blank in horror, something primeval in Flint was awakened and possessed him to flee as he was told. In the blink of an eye, he had rolled over and heaved his wings. But midway through the first flap of his wings, the High Tyto reacted and reached out to grab Flint.

A bright red light from the High Tyto's fireclaws filled Flint's left eye's field of vision and a terrible, searing, cutting pain filled that side of Flint's face. But the claws did not manage to take a firm hold and Flint escaped the High Tyto's grasp. He powerstroked through the tunnel at full speed, completely terrorized. A malevolent screech filled the tunnel

"After him! Pure Ones, AFTER HIM!"

The screech sent more terror into Flint's gizzard, so he pushed his speed even further, somehow managing to successfully fly in the absolute darkness of the tunnel. For the first time in Flint's life, he was terrified of the darkness. Everywhere he looked, though pitch black, he could envision an owl ready to kill him. It did not matter now if that owl was Pure One or Guardian, Tyto or not. It seemed to Flint that death was coming from every direction and he could not escape it.

Flying past a moonbeam, round rocks reflect light and in Flint's imagination morph into the helmets of the Pure Ones pursuing him.

He increases his speed once again.

His heartbeat echoes off of a large antechamber adjacent to the tunnel. _"More of them! More owls trying to kill me!"_ Flint exclaims frantically to himself.

He passes another moonbeam, and the rocks there also take flight as owls trying to kill him.

And so, though Flint is truthfully only being chased by adozen Pure Ones, in his mind, the entire owl universe is out to catch him. He hears a faint yell from behind. The High Tyto is breaking off his pursuit, but he is still sending several owls to chase Flint down.

For some odd reason, this inflicts further horror in Flint and he yet again increases his speed. Slowly, a burning sensation fills Flint's left eye, but he ignores it out of the scourge of the pursuing owls. Suddenly, he is engulfed by smoky moonlight as he accelerates out of the cave and a new drive fills him to fly harder, faster.

By now, Flint has lost all sense of traditional time, and instead counts time with the beats of his wings.

Two hundred wingbeats later - A warm sensation is seeping from his face down his left side.

One hundred and fifty wingbeats later- Flint's wings begin to grow tired, but he forces himself on.

One hundred wingbeats later - His wings are now completely cold and numb.

Seventy five wingbeats later - Flint's entire left side is wet and feels very warm through the numbness spreading through his body.

Sixty wingbeats later - His wings are so weak, they are drooping in flight.

Fifty wingbeats later - Flint is becoming light headed.

Twenty wingbeats later - His vision fails and he is engulfed in blackness.

Ten wingbeats later - Flint's wings lock, closed in at his sides.

Flint, completely blind and slipping into unconsciousness is deafened by the roar of air rushing past his earslits. The sound quickly grows, and at that moment, Flint begins to wonder if he is going to survive the inevitable impact with the ground.

A tremendous noise filled Flint's ears as he hit the ground at incredible speed, but he is unconscious before he even realized he heard the sound. And so the wingbeats end.

* * *

><p>"Aye, This one's still fresh." A ruffled voice rises through the darkness, its tone holding vile pleasure.<p>

"He's not ripe, no not yet. Leave him be in the sun for a day, let ta' flavah build. His scent ain't strong enough yet." Another voice, this one annoyed, sounded.

"No how. I ain't gotten fresh meat since that time some time ago. I ain't gonna pass thisun' up."

"Aw, ya' ain't gotta go eatin them before they'ah get good. This un here es just right." The lothesome voice sounded.

"You'd eat yah own Muther' if she died, ya old scavie." The first voice replied. A moment later, Flint was dimly aware of a set of large talons wrapping around his neck. "Aye! He's still warm too!" A moment later, Flint felt pressure on his back like something sharp was piercing him. In a delirium between unconsciousness and waking, Flint did not realize the implications of that sharp feeling on his back until he felt a firm tugging on his flesh. The sharp pain struck Flint in the back, suddenly jolting him to full consciousness.

He lept up and swung his talons in the direction the pain was coming from. A large, bald headed, black bird found himself the owner of three new gashes on his chest. He sprang back in terror "Ah Sprink! This one's still alive!"

Flint breathed a short, ragged inhale of air. Pain gripped his entire body, but especially his ribs, in its sharp claws and he collapsed back onto the ground. There was no doubt, his side and several places along his chest were giving torturous throbs of pain.

The vulture landed on a nearby rock as Flint lay on the ground immobilized by pain. About six of the vulture's companions were scattered about looking at Flint, ready to flee at any moment. Taking a short time to fight back the pain, Flint weakly stood up and looked down at the place he had crash landed. Dirt streaked with a small pool of his blood lay clumped where he had landed. At seeing this, Flint realized how shallow and rapid his breathing and heartbeat were and how cold his extremities felt.

Shaking his head, Flint tried to clear the nausea and confusion that were clouding his thoughts. A throbbing, ardent pain came from the side of his face.

Ignoring the additional source of pain, Flint gazed about the landscape. About two or three dozen corpses of owls were splayed out in the early morning sunlight close by. Gagging at the sight, Flint morbidly observed that they all were wearing Pure One issue helmets and battleclaws.

"What happened?" he quietly asked to himself, his mere breathing causing pain.

"A big ole battle!" A vulture standing over a nearby corpse gleefully responded.

Flint glared at him, then his gaze fell down upon the owl below. It a Grass owl, it was Kail, it was Flint's friend. Looking at Kail was too much for Flint to bear, so he averted his gaze to the vulture. "Leave him alone."

"Who?" asked a vulture.

"Leave All Of Them Alone!" Flint, forgoing the difficulty and pain associated with speaking loudly, growled at the vultures.

"We ain't gonna take ordars from you, ya talking corpse." The vulture that tried to make a meal out of Flint defiantly stated. Flint turned his head to glare at him as well, he was becoming very angry.

Another vulture, the one feasting on Flint's dead friend, churred a rough, tumultuous laugh. "And wit' a face lik' your's, ya might as well be dead."

Something inside of Flint snapped. His gizzard grew into the blood lusting state like that during his special ceremony and all pain fled him as he lunged for the vulture that just spoke. It went yeep and was unable to move as Flint pounced it and dug in his talons. The large black bird gave a jerk and Flint released his grip. There was the thunderous flapping of terrified wings as the other vultures fled.

He stepped back and bemusedly watched the vulture flail about, trying to get into flight, but it's wings were weak. It ran several steps and jumped attempting flight; however, instead of flying, it fell back to earth and collapsed to the ground. Flint's vision narrowed into a tunnel as he stared at the vulture. It was like a dream, a very bad dream, a very bad dream that he had no control over. But slowly, as the vulture failed to move again, the reality of what happened began to set in. His gizzard felt sick as his quietly listened for the sounds of life that should be coming from the vulture.

There were none. He had killed it.

"No, no." Flint uttered under his breath in terror of himself. "No," The word began repeating insistently through his head as he hurried over to the dead body and rolled it over.

Its eyes were sealed shut in a grimace of pain and the wound that Flint had created was right where the heart should be. Flint looked around in horror at all of the death surrounding him. The delirious feeling that had been hanging like a fog over his head was clearing and the carnage of everything was sinking in deeper. The irresistible urge to fly, to flee, set in and Flint tried to lift off. However, he was held to the ground by immense pain on his right side from his broken ribs. He cringed and a ring of pain set in on the left side of his face. Upon reopening his eyes, Flint was faced with the dead vulture and was forced to think about his actions.

_"No, it isn't my fault. It isn't my fault." _He rationalized, _"It was the heat of the battlefield,"_ Indeed, Flint slowly began to realize in that he had spent the entirety of last night ready kill or be killed. What he did when he killed the vulture was just left over stress, pent up emotion, a primal and subliminal drive to kill that remained from last night. These thoughts made Flint feel much better until he could look at the dead creature and feel half the guilt of before. However, these 'rationalizations' perhaps were not truths. But still, Flint felt terrible, and his gizzard was writhing in emotional agony. _"So much death,"_ Flint thought as he scanned the horizon and saw over one hundred dead Pure Ones. _"I feel old."_

However, upon thinking about his age, Flint realized how incredibly young he was._"Four months and a few days." _Flint now realized how incredibly short of a time that was, _"Four months,"_ He repeated. Indeed, Flint was very young. He spread out his left wing and looked at it. It was long and wide like all young owl's wings. It was Glaux's way of helping new fliers learn to fly because the shape gave much better lift and stability, easing the learning curve for young fliers. An owl was not considered an adult until a few months after his or her wings were as narrow as they will ever be. For Flint, that would be two years and several months of age. That was the minimum age of adulthood and the minimum age to mate. Until then, he knew that he had the emotions and personality of an owlet, a juvenile.

"No," he corrected himself aloud, "I ceased being an owlet at my special ceremony. And I have lived a lifetime for every one of my brethren that has died in this battle, and two lifetimes for every creature I have killed."

Then another thought crossed his mind, _"How many of us are left?"_ Terror seized his gizzard and he found he was flying with great pain towards the central command of the Pure Ones. _"Eric, Felic, Amelia! Please be okay." _As he flew, his right side and sternum were giving him torturous pain, so much that he might faint. But worse yet were the corpses spread over the region. They were in far less density than where Flint regained consciousness, but it was still a terrible sight to see so many dead. And the sky and ground was thick with vultures.

Through the flight, Flint's heart was beating extremely fast and he was extremely short of breath.

After a graciously short flight, he saw several living owls perched on a ledge. Flint began the landing approach, but his right wing was very weak, and in a spurt of pain it gave out, causing him to be unable to slow down to avert a crash landing. He hit the ground harder than what he would have liked and gave a short tumble that fortunately did not lead to any more broken bones or injuries.

The owls nearby stared at him as he weakly staggered to get up. But his voice and concerns were as strong as ever, "What happened? How many died? Did we win? Is..." He trailed off at the sight of one of the owl's expression. It was Sergeant Eldridge, and he was solemn and stark.

"We lost Flint, we lost." Several moments of silence passed, giving Flint amble time to wilf and stare on in disbelief, "Of our forces, six hundred are confirmed dead, two hundred are captured, and another three hundred confirmed deserted."

Flint's sore muscles clenched in terror, but the shock had rendered him numb and all he could do was reply timidly, "But that's the entire Union."

Sergeant Eldridge nodded grimly, "There is nothing left... When the High Tyto was killed, our ranks went to pieces. We had been holding our own until then. But once he died," The Sergeant paused, "Our moral plummeted and there were mass dissertations. We were outnumbered and outclassed." Sergeant Eldridge turned his head away in emotional pain and a distant look fell over his face, "We were slaughtered."

Flint was speechless and both his wings were drooping. Out of fear for the future of the Pure Ones, he pressed on incredulously, "His Purity Dead? How? What about Nyra Her Pureness, Can she lead us?"

"The High Tyto was slain by his brother Soren, at least that's the rumor. Anyway, he's dead. And it is rumored that her Pureness Nyra and her egg are dead." His tone was cold as ice crusted rock.

The information was too much for Flint because it took several seconds for him to take it all in. In that time, Sergeant Eldridge asked a question, "Young'un, have you found anyone to dress your wounds?"

Taking a few moments to process what Sergeant Eldridge asked, Flint shook his head in an attempt to clear it but was struck with intense pain. Grimacing, he spoke, "No... You are the first live owls I've seen. I don't think I am too bad off though... Just some hurt ribs, and some disorientation... " Flint grimaced in pain then added, "And a bad headache..."

"Son, you need to see your reflection." The Sergeant said in a very concerned voice.

Acting subconsciously, Flint reached up with the side of a talon to touch the side of his face that Sergeant Eldridge was looking at.

There was no pain where he touched it, leaving him feeling relieved for a moment. But there was something missing. Flint pressed harder with his talon and the ring of pain around the side of his face intensified, but he still felt nothing from the center of the ring of pain. It just felt numb, or dead. Flint took his talon and looked at it because he felt something wet on it. It was covered with ooze that seeps from wounds.

He looked at Sergeant Eldridge with a expression that asked what was wrong, and the owl's cold face softened a little in sympathy for Flint. The weathered commander looked at a helmet that was lying upside down nearby and said, "Go look,"

Flint walked over to it and saw it was very reflective on the inside. When his own reflection came into view his gizzard clenched and he yarped a pellet that he did not know he had. The skin and feathers on the entire left side of his face had been mutilated and severely burned. From the brow above his left eye down to the bottom of his beak, back to his earslit, all the feathers had been burned off and swaths of the skin torn away and dangling limply leaving a large red and black patch of burned and shredded skin on the side of his face.

"Wound's like that that don't heal," Sergeant Eldridge said solemnly, "If you can't feel anything where it is burned, you will never again feel anything there again. Count yourself lucky to still be able to see and hear out of that side of your head."

Shocked beyond belief, Flint stuttered for several moments, "But.. but... What about... my feathers and down?" Flint asked.

The Sergeant shook his head in a serious 'no', "Deep burns never heal right. And when the skin is damaged like that..." Sergeant Eldridge paused for a moment, "It is a fact. Where you feel pain, it will most likely heal in some form or another, you might even get your feathers and down back. But where it is numb, skin will scar over. But that's it, no feathers, no down, no feeling.

Flint looked back into his reflection and stared at it for several moments, not wanting to accept the truth. His visage was terrifying and repulsive. The severity of the burn was one thing, but the skin that had been torn... To look at it made him sick and increased the pain flowing from the wound. Flint was almost overwhelmed, but he stood firm and did not show it.

"If I may ask," Sergeant Eldridge slowly began, "How did that happen, because the area around the... er... injury looks like it was dealt by fire claws."

Silent at first, Flint slowly told a modified version of what happened, leaving out the encounters with his parents and simply saying he 'ran into' the High Tyto who thought he was a Guardian because of his helmet.

"Kludd most Pure!" The Sergeant gasped, "You are indeed lucky to have survived."

For Flint, this topic was far to grim, though granted there were few others that would be any better. Still, he had to change the subject, "Do you know anything about Eric, Amelia, and Felic?" The thought of them and their fate made Flint's heart start beating harder in fear for them.

The Sergeant shook his head no. Seeing he had nothing more to learn here, Flint decided to go look for his adopted family and was about to take off but was stopped by the Sergeant's words, "One thing, though. You will want to clean that wound before it festers. The infection alone could very well strip you of your sight, hearing, or life."

Flint wilfed slightly at what he was just told, but he felt more pressed to find his mentor. Without saying anything else, Flint limped into flight with a steady flow of pain emanating from his right side and his face.

He saw one of the nearby canyons and remembered that it spawned off of the canyon Eric's burrow resided in. Flying through the trough of stone, Flint was met with the sight many dead Pure Ones and even more vultures. Trying his best to keep his gizzard resolute and steadfast, Flint kept his gaze from drifting to the carnage down below.

Flint could not reach his destination quickly enough because of the anticipation of seeing Eric; the thought of seeing him alive was the only thing currently that could drive Flint through the agonizing process of flying. But as the burrow came into sight in the distance, he could see something lying at the mouth of the burrow. In the back of his mind, Flint knew what it was, but he never permitted the thought to fully come to surface. As he neared it, though, it was becoming more obvious what were the forms lying partially inside the burrow.

"No!" He unwillingly screeched, picking up his speed as best as his hurt side would let him. Flint's heart skipped a beat and he suddenly found himself nearly at the burrow without remembering flown there. Eric and Amelia's crumpled bodies lie motionless, eyes empty and glossed over, dead.

Flint crash landed hard next to the two corpses disturbing a swarm of flies.

He was sickened by the sight. He did not _feel_ sickened, or _think_ he was sickened; he _was_ sickened. His final reserve of strength vanished and his legs gave out from underneath him. Everything and everyone that he knew was gone; his world had ended. It was everything Flint could do just to keep himself from going to pieces, but then something caught his eye. It was a piece of parchment laying out on the ground inside the stone burrow. Desperately needing something to distract him from the sights around him, Flint snatched it up and practically ran all the way inside and turned his back to the dead bodies of Eric and Amelia so he could pretend he did not see them.

On the letter was the eloquent talonwriting of Eric.

_Felic, Flintgrease. Amelia has been hurt badly fighting at my side and I have helped her back to our hollow. I fear she will not live much longer and that we were discretely followed. I haven't much time to spare, so please pardon my brevity. To both of you, should you survive, you will be the hope of the Union. We have lost many and I have just heard that the High Tyto has been killed. I've seen entire squadrons cowardly run from this battle and even surrender to our enemy. I know not how many of us will be left after this battle is over, but you must rally the survivors. The fate of the union depends on it. You both have the potential. Felic, you are well disciplined in our protocols and know much in the realm of tactics. You have the potential to lead our forces in the absence of other commanders. I have the greatest confidence in you and your abilities. Flint, and I purposely use that name, you know now all that I know about Flecks. Use that to your advantage, but also, you must know some things that I have kept from you. Your sister is alive, Flint. She was being raised by Nasher the entire time, but he wanted no owls to know she existed. I was under the impression it was so she could be a 'secret weapon' of sorts, but today, I have been horrified to find that Nasher has had evil motives the entire time. You must find her and kill Nasher, because he and his influence over her present a danger to all. But your authority goes beyond that. Flint, you will have the capability to inspire followers who have abandoned the cause of the Pure Ones. You must know that you are the"_

The letter ends without warning.

_"I must know I am what?!" _The thought left a hard, unsettled feeling in Flint's gizzard.

Standing there, beak open, Flint stared disbelievingly at the paper held in his talons. His entire body was shaking as he tried to process everything again; because, for some reason he could not assimilate the sheer magnitude of everything that he had just read in addition to the terrible events he has witnessed in the passed hours.

His sister was alive at the time of the letter's writing, that was certainly something to be jubilant about, for she may still be alive. But that feeling was overcome by the many, many horrors and grievances that were filling Flint's mind and dominating his emotions.

Slowly, pure rage like that he felt when he had killed his first time filtered into Flint, dispelling his pain, weariness, and disorientation in the same way an all consuming inferno dispels shadows. "_How could they have died!? How could the Guardians have done this to us?" _Tears welling up, he took one last look at the two corpses. And then all the emotions of terror, fear, hatred, anger, and everything else that had been pent up inside of him for the duration of the battle were loosed and converted to an uncontainable burning anger founded in the pain of tremendous loss.

Seeing red, Flint screeched with the intensity of a hagsfiend at war, "Sprink You Guardians! Do you hear me? Sprink On You! By The Blood On My Brethren's Chests I Shall Make You Pay! I Shall Make You Pay! Sprink You, You Frinkin' Spawn Of Gull. I Will Tear You Into Pieces And Feed You To Your Chicks. Sprink On You! Sprink On You! You Shall Pay! You Shall Pay!" Words could not sum up a tenth of the indignation that Flint was trying to release. One could easily believe the gates of Hagsmire had broken open and the vilest hagsfiend to ever exist had escaped shrieking it's pure hated for Glaux who had imprisoned it in eternal death. Indeed, two surviving hireclaws nearby, superstitious creatures that they were, fell yeep at the sound of the scroomshaw spitting screaming to recover just late enough to see their life replayed in front of them as they narrowly avoided impacting the ground.

Flint's breathing was even more heavy and ragged than before from his anger for the Guardians and his pulse was faster and harder. He could feel each heartbeat in his head as the blood heaved through his brain and eyes. The feeling was invigorating, his dulled senses were sharpened back to their original acuteness, and his mind was active and vigorous, freed from it's lethargic fog.

At this terrible moment, something risked its very life by landing next to Flint. His heart skipped a beat and he jumped several feet away from it before his primal instincts driven by fear and anger forced him to lunge at the creature to kill it. But before the urges followed through, Flint realized who it was that landed and he flailed midair to miss the target.

Landing in a crumpled heap, Flint's rage dissipated and was quickly overcome with both grief and joy. "Felic!" He uttered through tears. "I... I... Thought you were a Guardian just then... I'm sorry. I reacted."

Flint's adopted brother stood there severely afraid because of being attacked by him.

Slowly that particular fear dissipated as Felic's fell beak open in shock and he looked at Flint, then back at the dead bodies of his grandparents, then back at Flint. His voice was crackly from stress and emotional pain as he talked but quickly falling into a quiet uttering, "Flintgrease... What hap... hap..." He drifted off though, in horror of the side of Flint's face. He finally managed to speak after many moments of stunned silence, "What, Happened?"

Flint unconsciously reached up and touched the side of his face with a talon. "I... got hurt." It was all he said. The reality of the injury was hard enough to accept without having to constantly be reminded of it, and knowing the High Tyto was the one who did it only made it worse. Flint's honored leader - the most pure of the pure - was the one who mauled him, leaving him feeling betrayed. It was irrational, Flint knew that the High Tyto had every reason to think he was hostile, but the moment of the High Tyto's hesitation suggested otherwise. _"If he thought I was attacking them, why did he act like that? Why didn't he kill me?"_ At this moment, Flint realized his injury had occurred from the High Tyto attempting to catch him. But the feeling of betrayal remained, and Flint felt disappointed, though he could not say why.

At this moment, Flint felt torn in two directions. The first direction being the one his mother wished for him with her dying breath, a direction free of the Pure ones. And the second direction being the one laid down by Eric, asking that Flint succeed him and stay loyal to the Pure Ones.

By now, Felic had seen the piece of parchment and was already crying as Flint handed it to him, but he broke down completely half way through the letter as the reality of the situation had time to sink in. It took much longer to read it than normal, but when he finally finished it, Felic looked over at Flint. "We can't leave them here like this." He weeped through his tears.

Flint had been crying as well but managed to get himself under control and was standing next to Felic. "There are still coals in the fire dish."

Felic gave Flint a pain filled look, but it turned to one of solemn approval.

The two gathered what wood they could, though Flint was unable to get but the smallest of twigs from immediately outside the den because of his injuries. With the wood, they built a pyre. Both the bodies were stiff, but Flint and Felic managed to place both of them laying up next to each other on the pyre. The two both agreed on a short poem of Purity all Pure Ones memorize. It wasn't quite appropriate for the situation, but it was the best they could think of. Flint took several coals from the fire dish using Eric's tongs and placed them on the pyre. It quickly ignited and the two orphaned Pure Ones, heartbroken that they were unable to compose something more appropriate for the final ceremony for Eric and Amelia, began reciting the poem.

_Purity in the night,_

_Tyto your face so bright,_

_Enchanted moonlight,_

_Beautiful Tyto, so is your sight._

_Fiery brown wings and coal like eyes,_

_Your dominion shall reign over all skies,_

_Our dominion over all that flies,_

_Oh Tyto, so strong and wise._

The short poem ended and the two owls were left to the silence of a dead battlefield with only the crackling of the pyre audible over a light wind. Felic turned his head away as the two bodies were consumed by the fire, leaving Flint brooding as he gazed deeply into the growing flames. His firesight was speaking to him, showing him visions Pure Ones at the peak of their might. He could see hundreds of the finest Tytos to have ever lived flying in tight ceremonial formations that displayed their discipline, their training, and their might. With each unison wingstroke, the formations moved as one body, fought as one weapon, and thought as one mind.

But then the vision shifted and Flint watched on as the battle of the previous night replayed through the flames. It was grueling to watch as the perfect formations were broken apart and their members killed, but greater agony arose from seeing a large swath of an entire division break away from the fight and disappear from the flames in a retreat.

Flint suddenly jerked to attention, _"There are Pure Ones still alive!"_ The thought hit him harder than any attacker ever could have. All he needed to know was where the survivors had retreated to.

Subconsciously pressing closer to the fire, Flint began focusing his attention on the formation that had retreated, practically demanding the fire to reveal the knowledge to him. The images stayed the same, but blurred slightly, so Flint pushed his thoughts harder. However, the desire to find certain images in the fire disrupted the entire vision and it evaporated away into fine wisps, leaving Flint feeling like he was trying to grasp mist.

After blinking several times and clearing his mind, the images resumed and Flint watched as the Guardians finished decimating the Pure Ones. Once again, the images were hard to watch because of the very strong emotions the evoked.

Suddenly, the entire scene changed and Flint saw a tree. It was a singular tree in the midst of a vast ocean filled with thick fog and heavy clouds. He knew what it was. It was the Ga'Hoolian tree and the home of the Guardians, the very owls who had just destroyed the glorious Union of Pure Ones.

Rage built as Flint watched hundreds of owls land in the tree and roost. Though there were no indications to say such, Flint knew that this was happening right now, and that the Guardians were celebrating their victory and becoming intoxicated - bingled as it is known to owls- on strong juice. It was disgusting that such a band of marauders could possibly defeat the perfect discipline of the Tytonic Union, and that at this very moment they were reveling in celebrations and loose discipline.

A plan began to formulate in Flint's head. The Guardians obviously did not suspect the Pure Ones to even be in existence, and so were completely unguarded. Their weapons would be dulled from battle and their minds numb from pleasurable drink. Now was the perfect time to strike them. But he still needed to know where the forces that had abandoned rank were. If he could find them and convince them that they could regain their honor and dignity as the mighty Tytos they are by hitting the unsuspecting Guardians as fast and as hard as they could, then there was hope for this war.

Flint regained his focus on the fire and began hoping that he would see something about the Pure Ones who had deserted. But a thought quickly entered the back of his mind, telling him of a possible source of information.

For those brief moments, Flint had forgotten that the fire was a funeral pyre. Straightening up feeling sickened knowing what was burning in the fire, the cold reality of the situation reset in his gizzard.

"Felic, there is nothing left for us here." Flint solemnly stated in a subdued tone, "Let's go."

"What do you mean?" There was something amiss about Felic's tone of voice, but Flint did not notice.

"Just follow me," Flint then added, "I think I know somewhere there is something for us." Flint tried to loft into the air, but the pain from his side took his breath away and he instinctually landed. Swallowing hard and preparing himself, he entered into flight again with no less pain but with greater resolve. Successful in remaining in the air, Flint left Felic behind bewildered. But he soon followed and caught up with Flint.

The extreme discomfort dropped away Flint was surprised that he was able to fly with so little pain as they headed back to where Flint had encountered Sergeant Eldridge. Still, his mind was in a daze, and it was only becoming harder for him to keep focus on any one thing because of it. He was on the path to being outright disoriented and irrational and completely nonsensical thoughts were entering into his head. It wasn't more than he could manage, though, so he ignored it.

"Where are you planning on going, Flintgrease?" Felic finally asked, the same odd tone and inflections in his voice.

"I have an idea." Flint said, nearly telling Felic that he no longer went by Flintgrease. He decided not to. It was hard enough to speak as is, and he really did not feel like talking.

They quickly reached the location where Sergent Eldridge had been earlier, and they lucked up because he was still there.

"Sergent Eldridge!" Flint screeched, catching the owl's attention.

Looking up and over at the two approaching owls, he waited until they landed to speak, though Flint crashed more than actually landed. "What is it?"

"Sir, we must strike back." Flint said between struggling breaths. Breathing was difficult even though there was relatively minimal pain.

The owl gave a bemused snort and wryly retorted, "Oh sure. Let's just gather a couple hundred owls out of the shambles of the battlefield and throw away the wrecks of our lives by attacking the same force that just destroyed an entire army!"

Flint's hopes were broken by this owl's lack of enthusiasm. This sergeant could very well be the last owl that could hold respect in the eyes of any owls that had deserted the ranks. He must be swayed.

"Sir." Flint desperately pleaded, "The Guardians are in their tree at this very moment bingled thinking there is nothing remaining of our forces. They are undefended. We can strike back and inflict real damage!"

The sergeant seemed to take a moment to consider Flint's proposal, but he still was not convinced. Speaking with heavy sarcasm, he sounded highly dissatisfied with Flint's idea. "And when you rile them into a response what then? Are you going to ask them for a cup of their tea?"

"Flintgrease..." Felic quietly interjected in a wavering and timid voice, "I don't want to fight... Please, no Flintgrease... No more fighting..."

"No!" Flint screeched back. He felt like telling Felic that he no longer went by Flintgrease, but to do so would betray his commitment to the Pure Ones -something he could not afford to do at this time- so he let it slide. "We owe our loyalty to the Pure Ones. We must fight on until we can no more!"

The Sergeant shook his head, "Not in this way."

"You frinkin' owl!" Flint screeched back at the sergeant causing his right side to burn with pain, "Your as disloyal as the ones who abandoned us mid fight!"

Sergeant Eldridge puffed up in response to Flint's harsh words, but he somehow felt sympathy for this foolish owl. Sighing, he spoke holding back much contempt. "If you are so determined to kill yourselves, there is a group of survivors, leaderless but craving to avenge our brethren."

"Where are they?" Flint said in a somewhat less hostile tone.

"Assembled off of our territory, hidden in the main canyon to the north of here."

"Thank you." Flint gratefully replied and was about to fly off when he noticed the helmet that he had first seen his reflection in. Realizing that he did not want his mauled face seen by other owls, he asked in a subdued tone and motioned with his wing, "Can I have that helmet? I want something because..." Flint trailed off, not really wanting to mention his injury because it seemingly would solidify the injury to his face as being real, but he did not have to.

Nodding, Sergeant Eldridge said, "I understand. The owner of that helmet is dead, you'll get more use out of it than he will."

"Thank you." Flint said, grimly noting yet another death. He walked over to the helmet and looked at it, wondering who had worn it last, knowing that it was most likely worn at the point of death. Getting over his qualms of wearing a dead owl's helmet, Flint knew it was not going to be comfortable to have the inside of it rubbing against his injury.

He put the helmet on and his worries were realized; the slightest contact with the burned parts of his face that could still feel caused tremendous pain. Flint tried his best to ignore it and took off, his right side hurting terribly also. Felic followed behind.

"Flintgrease." Felic said with a hint of fear in his voice, "Do you really intend on attacking the Guardians?"

"Yes I do." He snapped back, verbally lashing out at Felic, "Look at all the suffering, pain and death they have caused us. And you know what Eric's final words said. How could we not do anything other than to take swift vengeance against them in honor of our dead? If we do not, then we are abandoning who we are." Flint could not remove from his mind the memories of seeing Aves die, of his mother being broken upon the rocks, of the dead bodies... all the dead bodies...

It was the Guardians fault, and an anger burned inside Flint against them each time one of those gruesome memories would force itself into his consciousness.

"No... No... I don't suggest that.. I don't want to leave our brethren." Felic replied in a haze at first, but his thoughts focused as he continued speaking until he had reached a sharp retort. "How could you think I would do something like that? How could you say that?"

Anger rising between both of them, Flint escalated the argument's tone, "Well, what are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that we stay in Union territory!" Felic said back in a controlled screech, landing on the ground and pounding a foot on it to emphasize his point, "I say we wait it out for things to stabilize and hope that we run into a coherent remnant."

"Oh yes, excellent idea." Flint mocked in a cruel tone landing as best as he could next to Felic, "And while we wait, we will have lost our chance to strike back at the Guardians. We must make them pay for what they have done to us!"

"I am not fighting again, Flintgrease!" Felic's face twitched, "I can't, I won't! Not after what I have been through."

Silence fell between the two. Finally, Flint broke it with a solemn and quiet statement. "Then we must part ways. I am going to bring justice to those who have killed so many of us."

"No, Flintgrease..." Felic trailed off when his adopted brother took to the air surrounded by an atmosphere of anger and hatred. "Flintgrease!" he yelled out.

Flint ignored Felic and carried on without guilt. _Worthless disloyal racdrop. _He murmured to himself.

"Flintgrease!" Felic yelled, taking off after him. "Please, Wait! Please! I'll come!"

Slowing his already limping pace, Flint let Felic file in beside him. "You re-decided?" He said in a hurt filled, cold tone.

"I'm coming with you. But Flintgrease please, don't make me fight." Felic said, locking gazes with Flint. The two kept the gaze several moments, revealing to Flint the terrible anxiety and stress barely kept in check inside of Felic. The cause was obvious, everyone they had once known was now dead and Felic could have - or rather should have - been traumatized by the battle of last night. Not that Flint was without his own trauma either.

He almost let himself dismiss the sympathy he felt for Felic, but he did not. "Is everything okay?" Flint quietly asked.

"Is everything Okay?" Felic responded flabbergasted, "Flintgrease? How could you ask something like that?" There was a moment of silence before it was broken by Felic's shrill screeching, "Of course everything is not Okay! Do you even know what I went through last night!?"

Flint was not quite sure how to respond. He counted themselves lucky to still be alive, it was certainly more than the majority of the Pure Ones had received from fate.

Felic continued on, "Flintgrease! I saw so many die. So many died... So many died..." Felic's gaze drifted away as he continued to repeat the last sentence. He began trembling as he rambled on, sending cold chills down Flint's spine and into his gizzard. Felic suddenly snapped alert and gave Flint cold, distant and eery eye contact. His voice faltered as he spoke, "Flintgrease. I was in the middle of the squadron. We were engaging the Guardians. We were so arrogant; we charged right in to combat, but the enemy was not where they were supposed to be." It was obvious how difficult this was for Felic to recount, and his eye contact was distant, as if he was reliving the experience. But an unseen force drove him to tell his experiences despite increasing desperation rising within him, "They came from above, and we didn't even know what had hit us. I saw wings, heads, entire bodies severed. I managed to dodge my attacker but..." He trailed off into a stupor.

It was difficult for Flint to see Felic like this and his distress was rubbing onto him.

"I.. I... I just can't believe it..." Felic stuttered, "I had a friend that was right next to me. We wanted to fly together in our first battle. He evaded the Guardians with me and I looked over to make sure he was still with me. Then there was a blur and a shriek, and he was dead."

Felic's experience was much the same as his own, it appeared. And with the recounting, Flint could not stop his mind from replaying the horrors he had seen last night himself.

Flint tried to get him to change the subject. "Felic, I think you should should stop thinking about this..."

Not listening to Flint, Felic repeated the words over and over in a completely indifferent, matter-of-fact tone showing no emotional inflection, "A shriek and he was dead. Just a shriek. Funny, would think that one would say something more with their last breath. But no, just a shriek and he was dead. That was all. Just a shriek." Felic quietly mumbled something and fell silent.

A half dozen instinctual alarms went off in Flint's head when Felic laughed the first time. Flint knew that something very wrong was happening within Felic, but he had not the slightest idea how to approach his adopted brother about this issue he was having. Instead, Flint just simply let the issue slide behind him. Besides, he barely felt like talking or even being awake in the first place, so silence fell between the two as they flew.

For the ten minutes long flight through the canyon, Flint was in agony. Finally, he caught sight of a handful of metallic glints or light reflecting off of metal resting on the canyon floor farther down. The shimmers of reflected morning sun increased in numbers as he neared them and he could make out the form of owls perched in the area.

Many were standing in a small branch of the canyon that was well shaded. That was where the largest cluster of owls were, so Flint landed down close to them.

Flint landed and was short of breath and tight in the lungs because the pain stemming from his injury; however, more worryingly, he was cold over his entire body and he was shaking uncontrollably. Fortunately with the motions of flight having ending the provoking of his hurt side, much of the pain subsided.

His lungs felt like they had some fluid in them, so Flint coughed. A crippling pain gripped him on the side with the hurt ribs and he got a strong taste of blood.

Felic, standing next to Flint, looked concerned beyond desperation. "Flintgrease, are you okay? Are you hurt worse than you thought?"

Laying on the ground and gasping for several moments, Flint could only say, "...I don't know... Felic..."

It took over a minute before Flint was able to move, but at least the pain had all but subsided. Still, he was feeling lightheaded and disoriented.

When he finally began approaching one of the owls that was perched nearby, Flint noticed the cold, quiet demeanor held in common by all present. Some of the only sounds were stifled moans from farther down the canyon branch where Flint could see several dozen wounded owls, many of whom were missing large portions of wings or legs and had large, unbandabed open wounds where the appendage had been severed off. The sight of this stunned Flint and it took several seconds to get the words out of his throat when he tried to start speaking. Finally, Flint managed to speak, addressing no one in particular but rather hoping someone would hear him and answer. "My friend and I are two survivors. We wish to join your ranks and strike back against the Guardians."

The sound of words were unwelcomed by many of the owls present, resulting in many contemptuous glares.

"Will you be quiet!? You'll bring the entire Kielian League down on us." One owl angrily whispered.

"Don't pay much heed to this owl," Another owl, the one that Flint and Felic had approached first said,"She is a little paranoid."

Not wanting his injury to be seen, Flint adjusted his helmet slightly sending a ripple of pain through him and leaving behind a disgusting slimy feeling on the injured side of his face.

"We heard that you were assembling the survivors here." Flint said in a quieter tone. "We have to attack the Guardians now!"

"Yes, we are assembling the survivors," The owl then sighed, "But so many have lost the will to fight. There are some that are planning a counter attack, but they are over together in another part of the canyon."

"Well then take us to them." Flint said in a tone that was more hostile than he intended.

"Flintgrease, No." Felic finally spoke up, "I won't follow you this time."

"I'm sorry Felic, but I have to do this." Flint said in a remorseful tone, still wishing he had the nerve to tell his brother that he was going by Flint again. He then turned to the other owl, "Can you take me there?"

The owl nodded and took off with Flint lagging painfully behind. The short flight ended and Flint was in a group of about thirty owls who were quietly talking amongst each other.

"Orson, I have another recruit for you." Flint's escort said loudly enough that an owl in the center of the group heard and looked his way. Orson nodded and the owl that had lead Flint to this spot flew away.

"I was hoping that the next one would be a little bit older than you are, but you'll have to do." Orson said approaching Flint.

"Well excuse me for being a survivor. Next time I live through a slaughter like this one, I'll try to be older for you. How's that sound?" Flint said antagonistically.

The owl gave an amused laugh. "At least you have spirit."

"Yes I do have spirit. Now what is your plan of attack?" Flint said impatiently.

"Why should I tell you?" Orson retorted back hostilely.

"Because we must attack now!" Flint came back with matching hostility.

Laughing bemusedly, Orson countered in an extremely sarcastic tone, "Oh, yes. The thirty of us standing here will do a lot of good against the whole army of the Guardians."

"Well what are you planning then!?" Flint screeched back, his temper flaring.

"We don't know yet." Orson conceded in an aggravated tone.

"By Glaux!" Flint swore, tearing his helmet off his head and throwing it to the ground next to Orson, resulting in a loud clang that startled several owls and made Orson himself jump aside. All the owls present all stared at Flint.

"What?" Flint screeched indignantly, his rage now fueled by how much he hated what had happened to his face,"Haven't you seen someone who has been mauled before?"

Tears were building in him again from the overwhelming emotions that were bubbling over in him. The loss of everyone he knew, the experiences of the battle, how so many Pure Ones had died, the unavenged deaths; all these factors were like ingredients in a hagsfiend's brew, bubbling and churning into something vile inside of Flint.

Orson looked fiercely at Flint and spoke in a cold, deadly tone. "Young'un, I don't know who you think you are, but you need to curb your temper."

Flint could feel the anger flowing through him, and he could feel that it was starting to control him. Orson was right, he did need to take control of it. However much he did not want to. His rage felt so enlivening; pain fled his body and his senses were sharpened when he embraced it. However much it might feel good, though, he must calm himself before his control is submitted into the dominion of his emotions.

He took a deep breath and tried to force everything behind him. Somehow, he managed to speak in a controlled tone, "I am sorry... Sir... I've been through a lot..."

"We all have - meaning you have no excuse to be acting this way." Orson snapped.

Insulted that Orson said such a thing, Flint fought hard to hold his beak as Orson continued. "That being said, you should try to get a medic to look at that would before we take to flight at nightfall."

"I thought you said we were not following a plan of attack." Flint asked rhetorically in an crass tone .

Orson looked annoyed, "We are not attacking. Our goal is to move out of this territory as soon as possible so we can regroup and tend our wounds. We've heard rumors that the Northern Kingdoms are sending a hunter-killer squadron from the Kielian League to mop up any survivors left by the initial attack wave. We can't fly in full light of the sun because we will be spotted easily by any scouts."

"But..." Flint was cut off by Orson.

"Leave. Now!" He commanded.

Flint's emotions were not about to let him back down, but he knew that he had to. Orson was his superior, after all, and Flint owed him respect.

Forcing his qualms back, Flint grabbed his helmet and turned sharply to show his disgust. Putting the helmet back on and cringing from the ensuing spurt of pain as it brushed against his face, Flint barely managed to get into flight because of a tremendous onset of pain emanating from his right side. He had been aggravating his wounds all day, and apparently it was starting to take it toll on him. He was unable to fly for any distance at all because of how weak his entire body felt.

He had managed to flutter about fifty feet before falling back to earth out of weariness. He coughed again, this time out of reflex. He convulsed in pain and again tasted blood.

Flight was now out of the question for Flint, so he walked distance back to the main assembly of owls, hoping that there would be someone to help tend his wounds.

He was cold with pain by the time he arrived, and he wished that the hurting could just end. No one bothered to help him, so he was going to have to ask.

The injury to his face had become all the more sensitive in the past fifteen minutes it took to walk here, making him all the more miserable. Hobbling over to the closest owl, he asked with pain bleeding into his voice, "Where are... agh" The cry of pain cut him off for a moment, "... the medics?"

The expressions on the owl's face seemed to hint that he was not concerned with Flint's injuries in the least, but he did respond. "They are over tending to the amputees." He then motioned down the canyon branch that Flint had peered down earlier.

That was the last direction Flint wanted to go, but he had little choice so he began the arduously walking that way. On his way, he could not help but ponder what chance this group of owls had. He had seen about one hundred and fifty survivors, many of which are either injured or have lost the will to fight. Flint could only assume that the thirty or so owls he had seen with Orson were the only ones who were really concerned with fighting.

Halfway down the short distance, Flint's stamina gave out and he was overcome with pain. With great effort, he propped his left side against the cool wall of this narrow, shaded canyon. Slowly letting his weight off of his legs, he lowered himself to the ground by sliding against the rock as he watched the three medics tend to over forty injured owls, the closest of which was only about ten feet away.

He was reasonably pain free in this position, at least for his condition, and he let his mind wonder as he wished one of the medics would come tend to him. It was at this exact moment Flint truly realized that the Pure Ones were gone. The survivors that remain are not Pure Ones, they are just scared owls trying to not die.

Flint slowly let his body relax as his mind drifted off into a thick delirium. Through this haze, he could not help but ask, _"What am I going to do now?"_ Flint asked himself. His life as he knew it had come to an end, so he was going to have to redefine it. But first, he must figure out what it means to re-define his life in the first place.

Eying a medic tending to the owl closest to him, he let his head slowly lower onto the ground, his helmet sliding off and rattling on the stone nearby.

The coolness of the rock and dirt felt so good. Suddenly, Flint was tired; his eyelids were very heavy.

Considering what he had been through the night before and that it was currently mid-day, the normal time for rest, Flint did not see the harm in letting himself take a short nap.

Eyes closed, the world around Flint slowly began to melt away. The moans and cries of agony that were filling the canyon slowly faded away into mere whispers as Flint felt an enveloping coldness.

Flint lay like this for several minutes, his extremities and body feeling cold and heavy as lead. His heartbeat had slowed and come to a very shallow beat.

Through the thick cloud that had overcome his mind, Flint was on the verge of unconsciousness.

Slowly, his heart began taking a different, odd rhythm that only lessened his level of consciousness.

This did not alarm Flint though because with the enveloping coldness came a deep sense of peace and tranquility. Having never felt such peace before, it enticed him to let it take firm hold.

Flint let his worries and thoughts drift away as the coldness and peace merged and somehow became one as they shrouded him. He felt like shivering, but the peace washed away desires other than to be still and sleep. Slowly, this feeling even overtook the desire to take breath, and his shallow breathing slowly ebbed into one last exhalation.

Enticed by the fringes of rest, Flint's mind began to fade. Like the last flicker of a coal burning its last moments, so was Flint as he felt a soulful and tearful nostalgia to see his parents and to see Eric and Amelia again.

Restfully, the thought gently morphed into _"Maybe I'll get to see them soon... Maybe... I'll... see... them... soon..."_

As this last thought landed like a misty feather of a scroom on a still night, Flint's mind flickered out and disappeared and his body fell deathly still and silent.


	22. Wake of Destruction

Flint was flying through the canyonlands. He had no memory of how he got there, though he overlooked the fact without giving any thought to it. The world around him looked weary; the normal colors were dull and muted. The blue of the sky appeared light gray as if it had a thin overcast of clouds and only a small fraction of the deep blues were showing through as desiccate light azul. Layers of red clay and orange stone that were exposed in the canyon walls were ashen, their colors obscured and blunted into scarcely noticeable hues. Yet Flint did not notice.

There was no wind, and as Flint flew, he felt no air flowing over his wings. Ahead, he saw a ledge in the distance that he wanted to perch on. When the urge to be there struck Flint, he found that he was there without having flown to the location. Yet this seemed normal to Flint, and he did not notice it any more than he would have thought about the process of actually flying there.

The ledge was bathed in dull sunlight, but there was no warmth as Flint spread his wings towards the sun to try to catch the rays of light. He stood there for a moment and stared at the sun which was dimmer than usual and did not hurt his eyes.

For some reason, Flint remembered his father telling him not to stare at the sun the day of the eclipse when he was a little chick. Fond memories of his chickhood surfaced and Flint became nostalgic of that short period of his life. He closed his eyes to think about those few short weeks.

When Flint opened his eyes again, he was standing in his old hollow. Everything was exactly the way he remembered it, but he could not shake the impression of how much smaller it seemed inside. He looked out the opening for a moment through the trees, taking in the sights of plants for the first time in a very long time. Watching the needles of the trees, he was struck by how weary, how oppressed by sadness the trees and other plantlife were.

Having seen enough of the muted and gray world outside, Flint turned and looked at the in hewn shelves that still held the books that had once belonged to his parents Mercury and Windy.

On the top shelf, cupped in a small nest of straw, was the shell of the egg Stellaris hatched from. Flint remembered when his parents placed the shell there and how he watched on with fascination under his da's wing with Stellaris as Windy wove the nest to hold and protect the egg.

Something struck Flint for the first time. Where was his egg shell? He had never seen where his parents had kept it.

In the hollow there was no where else for the parents of an owlet to keep the precious fragments of the egg shell of their chick, so a quick glance around the hollow told Flint that they did not keep it.

His gizzard was saddened by this and he realized how much he needed to be loved, and how much he wanted to think that at some time, he was loved by his parents. Maybe he was, but if so, then why did they not keep his egg shell?

As he was contemplating this, Flint perched himself on the hollow's opening and gazed outwards for several minutes. He was lethargic and simply stared out for a long period of time without thinking too greatly about anything. While doing this, he noticed something.

It was small, imperceptible, like watching the movement of a shadow cast by the sun. It was a slow change, one that would be impossible to see moment to moment, but bluntly obvious when compared to the state of only a few minutes ago.

But to the troubled owl, it was as if his perception was branching off to include two different worlds, each a separate state of existing than the world Flint was occupying. Slowly and faintly the planes of existence were bleeding into Flint's perception to where he could hear, smell, taste, see, and feel the two at once in conjunction with the third that he currently was in. Surprisingly, it was not overwhelming even though the sensations were slowly overlaying onto the gray reality Flint was in. All three were the same with trees, rocks, twigs, and horizons in the exact same location, size and shape, but yet all three were completely separate and unique, with stark variations in the details of what was to be seen.

Being faint and hard to perceive at first, it was hard to quantify anything specific about what he was seeing, but yet slowly, Flint began to see details.

One world, bright and vivid to the sight, radiated luminous light that renewed and uplifted. In the sky, Flint could see brilliant blue dotted with clouds of a pure white color that was matched by the iridescent sheen on the dark green leaves and vigorous plant life down below. The scent in the air was sweet, and in the distance, Flint could hear gentle melodies sung and accompanied by instruments. Flint had never heard an instrument played before, but now that he was hearing it, he wished so greatly to listen more. But most fascinatingly of all about this world that Flint was perceiving was that time passed differently. Flint could not understand, comprehend, or even begin to relate anything about this incredible aspect, but he was struck with an analogy. If the direction of normal time's passage were to be represented as an owl flying south to north, then this time would be represented as not only flying south to north, but east to west, and below to above all at the same time. Time was moving in three directions at once, and it did so in such a way that longing for the past could not exist, for the past itself has no place, it could not exist. Flint's mind could not wrap around this, and even the metaphor for the time's passage was wrong entirely; though it was the only way he could even explain the phenomenon.

_Glaumoria..._ Flint said aloud in unexplainable awe, yet his words were disconnected from his body, causing Flint to realize for the first time he was experiencing the world as a scroom, the gray world his spirit was inhabiting being the world of scroomsaws.

For one brief moment, Flint with great anticipation awaited his arrival into the afterlife, but horror, terrible, terrible, unconveyable horror struck him.

The other world being made known to Flint, Hagsmire, - a world of desolation and destruction - was just as prevalent in Flint's eyes as Glaumoria. The trees, petrified into charred and blackened bone, burned eternally, casting blood red light into the black sky and reflecting off of the clouds to create blackness spotted with shifting patches of orange and red above. The ground below was lined thick with heavy brown thickets and black petaled, shadowy crimson stemmed flowers while creatures of indescribable horror with black pelts and yellow eyes burrowed and crawled underneath the heavy thickets towards Flint. In the distance, he saw a tremendous black bird with vicious yellow eyes flying straight in his direction. In the background, screams and cries of pure agony rippled through the landscape as the rumble of fire bellowing from the ground cast a horror inducing backdrop for these gizzard chilling sounds.

Greeted by such horrors of Hagsmire at the same time as the serene, blissful peace of Glaumoria, Flint was left yeep, unable to figure out how to even react. But while the horrors of the eternal punishment had Flint distracted, something approached Flint in Glaumoria.

Landing on the branch in front of the hollow, a radiant, white bird shimmering in light and peace took Flint's attention.

It was the most beautiful things Flint had ever seen... It's eyes were a soft blue like the light blue color of the sky near the sun, it's feathers were pure white with iridescent gold streaking through the shafts and branching out onto select filaments to create patterns of infinite complexity and equaling beauty. It's wings were broad and shimmered with a faint white light that illuminated the surroundings in a peaceful aura.

Flint's throat was tight with terror and he could not utter a single word, but his concerns, though mentally asked to the creature, were heard.

The bird's voice was thrumming, deep, but indescribably gentle and empathetic. "Young Flint. I am so sorry, but you can not stay here." It's face reflected the deep sympathy it felt for Flint.

Fear coursed through Flint in a wave that would have made his entire body fall cold and his wings droop to their sides had been occupying his now dead physical body. Before he could even pose the question orally, the creature understood what Flint was asking and replied so gently that had the words spoken not have been so inexorably dooming, fear would have fled him forever, "Flint, you are dead, and you cannot stay in Glaumoria... I am so sorry."

Flint would have fainted if he were tethered down by his physical body, but he was left fully conscious to be forced to accept the one thing no creature ever wants to hear. He - his eternal scroomsaw - was doomed to eternal death and suffering in Hagsmire.

In Flint's perceptions, he saw the Hagsmirian creature land on the branch in the same place the glorious Glaumorian creature landed. It approached with ravenous blood lust, it's ragged and torn feathers reflecting the growing yellow light that was emanating from it's eyes.

_Hagsfiend..._ was the only word that Flint could even think. Had it not been at the same place as Glaumoria's equivalent type of creature, Flint would have flown directly to the luminous white being. It would not do any good for protection, but Flint wanted to for one last moment to be basked in the light of Glaumoria and plead for his fate.

In a begging tone, Flint managed to choke out to the Glaumorian creature, "Please, please, give me a second chance..."

The being shook it's head subtly and spoke with great sadness. "I am not Glaux. I can't do that."

Without even thinking about the being's response, Flint pleaded louder this time. "Please, Please, just one more..."

"Flint, I can't give that to you, and even then, you still will fail your second chance." The luminous creature said with great sadness.

With the evil, black fiend menacingly walking towards Flint in a slow, dread building manner, Flint broke down into tears, "Please... If I can't come through my second chance, please, Please, give me a third... I don't want this."

The Glaumorian bird turned it's head away from Flint as the hagsfiend gripped hold of him, sinking it's talons into his scroomsaw and dragging it out of the hollow. The entire time, Flint fought it and was screeching at the top of his lungs "Help me! Please help me!"

As he was being carried off, Flint's perception of Glaumoria was quickly fading as his scroomsaw was dragged into Hagsmire. He could feel a body quickly forming around his scroom. The body was to be the one he will inhabit Hagsmire in, and for some reason, Flint knew that when the body was fully formed, he would be forever bound to dwell in agony and suffering. With one last great screech, Flint,with a repentant gizzard that was truly ashamed for his life, called out for mercy "Glaux, Please! Save me!"

* * *

><p>Numbness... Coldness... Blackness... Unconsciousness... Then pressure and pain.<p>

Nothingness... Weakness... Ebony black veils surrounding him... More pressure, then a sudden agonizing pain that ripples through his chest.

Numbness... Coldness... Blackness... A chest throbbing because of injury... A second agonizing pain...

Eyes open... Light floods them, they burn from too much brightness... _So tired..._ Eyes close, unconsciousness begins to take hold again.

A sudden terrible impact upon his chest broke Flint from his bond to the netherworld of unconsciousness as the left half of his breast was struck by a tremendous force, creating terrible pain, causing his muscles to tense and create more pain. He reacted and defensively rolled over onto the side that was struck, putting pressure on the broken ribs, causing him to reflexively inhales sharply. He rolled over onto his back again, his mind too numb to wonder why he was on his back in the first place.

Slowly, bathed in glaring sunlight, Flint opened his eyes. A shadow stood over him and tenderly laid a set of its talons onto his chest over his heart. He was too delirious to even compose rational thoughts for over half a minute and could not understand what the shadow of an owl was saying, but slowly, his ability to think returned.

Flint felt a surge of anger and the first coherent sentence that entered his mind was, _"A Lesser Sooty! How dare it strike me, a Pure Tyto... In Glaux's name, what is it thinking?"_ The line of thought trailed off back into a delirium. Through the mental haziness, Flint remembered something... It was like a dream, No, wait... it was more.. it like remembering having once remembered something.

The LesserSootywas prodding Flint, parting feathers around his chest and abdomen and looking at the skin underneath for injury. Flint tried to think, to remember, but it was so hard to keep a straight thought that he became distracted by the owl that was examining his broken body. To his own disgust, he became fascinated with the LesserSooty as she was checking for injuries by running her talons along his wings and chest, feeling for deformations that would tell of a broken bone or bruising. Ignoring the pain that was generated with the slightest pressure to most of his chest, it oddly felt soothing to have her standing there looking him over.

_"A Sooty? Why am I feeling like this towards a lowly Sooty?"_

She caught Flint gazing at her and said something to him.

"_What did she say?" _Flint asked himself, the other owl's words falling garbled and unintelligible in his mind.

Flint just wanted to go back to sleep; he was so tired. So he let his eye lids slowly fall back closed. The Sooty owl caught sight of Flint's closing eyes right as they were narrowing into thin slits and she reached over and shook Flint's head by gripping his collarbone near his neck and lifting his head gently.

Inhaling raggedly, there was loud fluid filled rasp in Flint's breath. He coughed and felt something come up. It was coagulated lood.

_"Why is she doing this?"_ Flint thought, too weak to fight the lightheadedness that was working its way into his consciousness. He let his eyes slowly begin to close again, but he was met with a stronger, more firm shake.

"Get Up!" The desperate words fell onto Flint's earslits, finally registering meaning.

He opened his eyes and looked at the Lesser Sooty, but was too weak to try to talk. She spoke again, in a worried but yet very commanding tone, "Young'un, get up! You need to stand."

"_Stand!"_ Flint exclaimed to himself, _"Why is she giving me orders?" _Insulted that a lower owl would presume command over an Alba, especially when he only felt like remaining in the spot he was in.

Flint just lay there in pain, disbelieving that he was injured so badly. He had flown so easily earlier today... How had he gotten to such a weak state? His entire body ached and the left part of his chest where his hart lay underneath hurt much worse.

The owl stepped around him and stood over his head. Once there, she gently flipped him over onto his stomach, much to Flint's protest.

He grunted, then moaned, "...my ribs." When he tried to roll back over onto his side, the owl stopped him and pressed him back into the position of lying on his stomach. Flint groaned louder this time.

She then gently stooped down next to Flint's right side and put herself underneath his wing. "Come on," She said gently, "Use me as support."

Tensing himself, it was everything Flint could do to even stand. Factoring out the pain from his ribs, face, and entire body, Flint was just weak.

His legs were shaking, as was his entire body, as he forced himself against gravity.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Flint was standing with the help of the owl. His heart was beating rapidly and he was beyond simple lightheadedness. Lethargically, his vision began to fade.

"Breath deeply, young'un. Come on, breath deeply." The owl soothed him.

Trying his best to obey, Flint took breaths that were as deep as he could manage, though the pain from his broken ribs made the physical endeavor very difficult. It helped slightly by slowing the rate of his vision fleeing him, but not enough to completely halt the process.

"Listen to my voice." The Sooty slowly said to Flint, "You have to stay as attentive as possible." Flint nodded wearily in between desperate pants for air.

Slowly, they walked over to a small pile of rocks slightly further down the canyon branch. It was an arduous journey for Flint, even with it being only a couple dozen steps. Once they reached the destination, the Lesser Sooty slowly began pulling away from Flint.

"Try to stand on your own."

Flint nodded wordlessly and the owl fully pulled herself out from under Flint's wing.

Staggering and almost falling to the ground, Flint was shaking from strain while he was supporting his own weight.

"Your doing well." The owl commented.

Flint looked at her and replied with a strained, "Thanks..."

"Okay, now let's get you laying down the right way."

Flint did not comment as she guided him over to the rocks. He had not the slightest idea what she was intending, but it became clear when she began sitting him down in the location. The rocks were arranged such that an owl could lay on its back with its legs and wings held above its body and head due to the location of surrounding rocks. Flint vaguely knew that an owl with severe blood loss was to be laid in such an awkward position to move the blood into the main body where it would be of better use.

He paused to take a breath and steady himself against the influx of pain from his injured ribs and face as he was placed into the position that the medic was trying to get him into. Once in the position and with his wings and legs laying up above his body in an entirely unnatural position, Flint strained out a question. "Why are you making me do this? Why did you beat me on my chest? I had just fallen asleep."

The owl blinked incredulously at Flint, almost not understanding what he had just said. Flatly, she stated, "Young'un, your heart stopped."

It was Flint's turn to be incredulous, "What... what do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean what I said." The Grass owl replied, "Your heart was stopped for well over a minute. If it was not for Greidawl over there-" She pointed with a wing at another Lesser Sooty that lay nearby, obviously in pain as well, "-I would not have even known you were there. Then, if it wasn't for a translated fragment of some old book of the Others I had once read that told about putting pressure on the heart to make it beat when it falls silent..." She paused and in a somewhat critical tone continued ecstatically, "By Glaux, young'un, you are lucky. What happened to you to get you in such terrible state?"

Flint had never felt more mortal than he was feeling at this very moment. He had brushed death and escaped, but barely, and still, continued life was seemingly not guaranteed.

Through winded words, Flint retold his abbreviated story, "I was alone, and I was attacked, my face was cut up and burned... And I escaped. Then..." He paused for air, "I went yeep, passed out, then hit the ground really hard. I was awakened by a vulture trying to feed on me, and I was fine for a while until I got here..." Flint paused for breath again, hearing with his own earslits how fragmented and incoherent his story and speech is, "I was overtaken with pain, then I just layed down to go to sleep."

"Wait.." The Sooty owl sounding very worried stopped Flint, "You did not fly here, right?"

Flint nodded, "I flew a lot because it did not hurt. I even crashed a couple of times, but I never felt as bad as I do now."

"No you... Gah, you dumb..." The owl was flustered beyond words and paced several angry steps to cool her head off before she turned back to face Flint and scorn him, "You were in Shock!" She practically screeched at him, "You don't do things like flying when you were in shock cause you can's feel when you hurting yourself worse. By Glaux!" She rubbed her head with a talon, "You are bleeding inside yourself. I can't fix that, and it is probably ten times worse because you were flying around tearing yourself open more and more on the inside."

Flint's sense of mortality that existed just a few moments earlier was completely eclipsed by the new, much stronger sense that was engulfing him in a feeling of sheer vulnerability.

"I.. I'm sorry..." Flint apologized, new fears seeming into his gizzard.

The Lesser Sooty turned hastily away from Flint, "It's not you.. It's not you." She paused for several moments. In that time, Flint noticed that hobbling towards him was the Lesser Sooty that had let the medic know his heart had stopped beating. He neared at the exact moment the female owl burst into hysterical crying and screeched, "It Frinks Me Off!" while turning and kicking a small rock that was then sent sailing for destinations unknown.

"Docia." A gentle but also pain filled voice called out. It was the Lesser Sooty, Greidawl.

The Grass owl turned to him. With awe, Flint watched as the Lesser Sooty as he wrapped his single remaining wing around Docia and she gingerly wrapped her wings around him, being especially careful with touching the owl where his wing had been severely mangled in battle and the remaining bone and flesh later amputated. The remaining stub had been hastily bound with clean moss taken from one of the forest kingdoms.

"Greidawl, it just isn't right what they did to you. It just isn't right that I have not been able to save so many..." The tears overcame the ability to speak and she buried her face in Greidawl's feathers. Flint then heard a few muffled words come from her, "There isn't anything more that I can do for anyone... Boen, Rhoswen, Eirlys, Gethin... They're all dead... I couldn't save them."

Greidawl quietly held Docia and tried to comfort her, "It's okay... it's okay... There's nothing that anyone could have done. There are plenty of owls here that you can help." He pulled away enough from Docia so he could look her in the eye. In an ever so gentle tone, he spoke, "Why don't you go bind Llorith's wounds? I think he would appreciate that."

"I don't have any more moss." Docia's voice cracked and wavered through her tears.

"It's okay... its okay... Why don't you go get some of the voleskin leather off of the helmets and battleclaws, I'm sure you could use that."

"Okay." Docia said, finally getting control of herself again, but the overtones of desperation and sorrow still held a place in her voice.

Flint watched as she dolefully lifted into flight towards the main canyon, and quietly, he noticed that the feeling and presence of death were so oppressive that it was seemingly tangible. But at the same time, it was like a terrible dream. It just did not seem possible that his world could be in the state it now is in; it seemed so impossible that Eric and Amelia were dead, so impossible that the Empire of Purity was now in shambles. It was so indefinably strange to Flint's mind that he had nearly died.

The memory of having a memory slowly seeped back into Flint's mind. Flint could sense that there were a vast spectrum of feelings, emotions, and connotative meanings to this memory, but he could not summon them. All that he could call to mind was one phrase, disconnected and seemingly irrelevant. _"A second chance..."_ The words echo in Flint's head as if not his own. But if they are not his own, then to whom do they belong?

"How're ya doing, young'un?" Greidawl asked Flint, walking with much difficulty over closer to him.

Flint kept his head where it was, lying with the side of his skull flat against the rock and looking at the location Greidaw and Docia had been standing a few moments before because he did not feel like exerting the effort to move it. He felt vulnerable, exposed, mostly because the injured side of his face was the part that was facing up and most easily seen. "I am, okay I guess." Flint said quietly to keep from moving his chest too much.

"That's good." Greidawl said, nesting down nearby, next to Flint, "I was was worried for ya when I heard your heartbeat start goin' out of wack." Flint did not care to comment on the statement, so Greidaw continued, "Docia, she knows what she's doin', ya know."

"I'll take your word for it." Flint said without either enthusiasm or strength, not wanting to carry on a conversation because it hurt too much to talk. He just wanted to sleep.

Greidawl nodded, "She is an incredible owl, I couldn't ask for more."

Flint moved his head, finally making eye contact with Greidawl, "What do you mean? Are you two..."

Nodding again, Greidawl replied, "Yes, we are." He looked skyward with wonder in his tired and pained eyes and face, "Love is the most wonderful thing. Forget serving the Pure Ones, or holding power over the lower species. I ain't never liked those anyway. The Pure Ones train you to think terrible things, and they keep all the good things from you."

Angered at the belittlement of the Pure Ones and their beliefs, Flint protested, "Speak for yourself, love is terrible." Flint had no experience with the mutual love that exists between two mates, but if it is anything like the supposed unconditional parental love that his parents failed to show... "You're told you are loved, you are promised that they will always be at your side, but you wake up one day and you are abandoned, left to die. You are trained to think that love is so wonderful, just so that when you are finally left, it hurts all the more when you realized that there isn't such a thing as unconditional love."

Flint had never realized how resentful he truly was towards his parents for leaving him and how much he longed to be loved but also, he never realized how bitter he was because he knew that the longings were in vein, that he was chasing after the wind.

Greidawl, wrongly thinking Flint was talking about courtship, replied, "Ya just ain't found the right one yet, young'un, somewhere out there is a-" Flint cut him off.

"I was talking about my _Parents_, you idiot lower tyto." Flint said sharply. He immediately regretted saying it, realizing that he was directing the anger that he felt for his life situation at Greidawl.

The Lesser Sooty was visibly shaken and silence fell between the two. Flint searched for words to apologize, but could not properly think of a reply for over a minute. Finally, after an excruciating period of time passed, Flint spoke. "I am sorry... I've been through so much, I have a hard time sorting out my emotions for what I feel in the past and the ones I should feel now."

Greidawl looked at Flint. "I understand it's a sensitive topic for ya. I'll hold my beak and let ya be."

"No, you don't have to stop talking." Flint replied.

"It's okay. I'll be quiet." Greidawl replied, obviously hurt.

Several more minutes of silence passed in between the two owls, and Flint felt like the most worthless owl on the face of the world for speaking in such a way to an owl that had saved his life moments earlier. During the silence, Flint's mind was left wondering about what kind of owl he was.

Since his special ceremony, he had been plagued by a short temper and extreme impatience. Already, even though practically still an owlet, he had killed three owls in cold blood, and another on the battlefield. And just now, without the slightest hesitation, he snapped off at an owl responsible for saving his life. He blindly followed Pure One mandates, as seen by his special ceremony and he lacked respect for anything but Pure Tytos. Flint realized how terrible of an owl he was.

At that moment, Docia came flying frantically back through the canyon. She flew for the main cluster of wounded owls and screeched exasperatedly, "The Kielian League is coming! They will be here in less than two minutes!" She then began calling out names and ordering the few owls in this location capable of flight to help those unable to move try to escape. Whatever efforts exerted would be pointless as they would be slowed down by the injured, but something had to be done.

Flint tensed at hearing the sentence, sending waves of pain through his body. Greidawl in the meantime wilfed. The following minute was dominated by the ensuing chaos. In the main canyon, Flint could see owls desperately attempting to don their battleclaws and helmets to counter the Kielian League who was rapidly approaching, and he heard orders being bellowed out to fall back to the branch of the canyon that the infirmary lay in.

Dozens of owls streamed into the portion of the canyon Flint was in and mass chaos ensued as unofficial leaders took to ordering the majority of owls to hiding positions in the rocky outcroppings above the canyon floor. The injured were being used as bait to lure the Northern Kingdoms down into a vulnerable position optimal for an ambush.

Just minutes after the initial alarm was sounded, most every owl was in the canyon branch Flint was in. There then was absolute silence; the only noises that could be heard were the quiet scrapings of battleclaws on stone and the labored breathing of those fearing the coming fight. About thirty owls remained straggling behind in the main canyon gathering supplies and putting on battle gear. They were the first to spot the approaching Kielian League as the owls from the Northern Kingdoms turned a corner in the canyon and were in full sight.

Over two hundred owls composed the approaching army, outnumbering the surviving Pure Ones as a whole, and were about three times the number of Pure Ones who could actually fight. The stragglers were quick to finish strapping on battleclaws and helmets, for the approaching enemy was bearing down on them at incredible speed.

Thirty seconds after seeing the first glimpses of the enemy formation, the Pure Ones that remained in the main canyon were fully geared and began a desperate flee back to the main canyon. Time seemed to crawl as they lifted to the air in desperate flight to return to the main forces in the canyon branch. Flint watched as they neared the relative safety of the presence of their comrades; however, they were too slow.

Many of the owls rolled mid flight to meet their talons with the talons of the enemies. For one brief moment, Flint felt a surge of pride as not a single Pure One was killed in the initial locking of weapon clad talons. But they were outnumbered, so with their claws occupied, the Pure Ones were open to attack from the remaining owls from the Northern Kingdoms. There was a stunned, sickened silence among the entire group of survivors as they watched their thirty comrades be run through with blades of ice and metal and hear their screeches of agony echo through the air.

A third of their forces had been killed in only a few moments and the now lifeless bodies of the dead were let to fall to the ground. What little had remained of their moral had been fully destroyed.

One owl, one single owl of the Pure Ones' ranks, had a breakdown of courage and lifted off, flying as fast as he could with the enemies to his tail feathers. That single owl inspired over half of those capable of flight to follow suit and begin to follow him.

Flint, immobilized by his injuries, was helpless as a number between thirty to fifty owls dropped their weapons and began fleeing as the Northern Kingdoms began flying down the canyon branch. Many of those who remained unlaced their battleclaws and cast them aside to lay down into submissive postures of surrender as the Kielian League split into to halves, one halve to chase down the ones who were fleeing, and the other half to deal with the owls that remained behind.

Ten brave souls dared not surrender and launched into a suicidal attack against the approaching foes. They barreled headlong into them and, in a volley of slashes, swings of weapons, and stabs, four of the Kielian League members were killed or disabled within only moments. Only three of the Pure Ones were killed, despite the differences in numbers, and those that survived managed to continue surviving as they fought in a deadly midair ballad of blood and metal.

Two owls, a Kielian League member and a Pure One, collided and locked talons, letting their momentum carry them through the air as they were falling. The Pure One, despite being a Masked owl trying to fight a Great Horned owl, managed to take control of her and her foe's falling as they plummeted from the air. They crashed next to Flint in much the same way Flint had crashed when he had killed Corporal Travis, but the Masked owl landed right so the entire force of the impact was transferred into the Great Horned owl, stunning him. The Masked owl took full advantage of her foe's weakness and pierced his heart, killing him instantly.

She was mere feet away from Flint, and she cast a subtle glance towards him and Greidawl. There was a moment's eye contact before she raised her wings to enter into flight again. But before she was able to move, a Short Eared owl that had followed his comrade at a short distance swooped through in a burr, cleaving his weapon through her neck.

She was dead before she hit the ground.

Flint lay, struggling to get up, to fly, but to no avail as the Short Eared owl and another owl landed to try to save their already dead comrade. Greidawl stayed at Flint's side.

Once they both saw that there was nothing more to be done, they both turned to Greidawl and Flint, who was fighting gravity to simply roll over. Flint knew what he would have done in their situation, outraged at seeing a comrade dead at the talons of the enemy, he would show his enemy no mercy.

There was no escaping, for Flint was too weak to run, let alone fly away from these owls. He let himself come to a rest, laid his head back, and closed his eyes as panic began to set in. His chest was heaving despite the pain associated with such deep, hard breathing.

He opened his eyes slightly to see the two owls approaching him, the Short Eared owl with a deathly fire in his eyes, clearly intending to kill him and Greidawl both. But the other reached out and stopped him, speaking something in his native language that Flint did not understand.

Flint closed his eyes again, trying to overcome the instinctual fear that his body and mind were imposing on him and hoping that his death will be quick.

An owl reached out and grabbed Flint by the wing and dragged him off the rocks. He fell limp, having succumbed to the incredible pain of having his broken ribs provoked into pain again. Then he heard something that was said in the other language and a third owl lands. Flint opened his eyes to see that the owl is carrying some form of a vine. At an incredibly quick speed, the owl tightly wrapped Flint around the wings and chest while also tying his legs.

The pressure of the tied vine on Flint's chest was intense and while it was being tied, Flint felt a broken rib painfully move out of place to where it pressed up sharply against something on his insides. At the exact same moment, it became excruciatingly painful to even inhale the tiniest breath.

The Kielian League members who tied Flint up appeared satisfied with its craftsmanship of Flint's bindings and moved on to bind Greidawl, taking much pleasure in binding the vine tightly around the wound where Greidawl's wing had been amputated.

By now, the Pure Ones that had attacked had been killed and those that surrendered were being restrained. Those that had fled were being hunted down and killed if they resisted in the least bit, else they were restrained as well.

Flint, forced to take the absolutely most shallow breaths, was fighting his body that was craving massive beakfulls of air. He felt as if he might faint, but he knew that he had to stay awake, lest he lose consciousness and his natural tendency to breathe take too big a breath and puncture a lung.

Passing out would at least be a welcome relief to the extreme pain, though. When he had been drug into this position, the injured side of his face had been dragged on the ground through grit and dirt, aggravating the wound as much as his broken ribs and bruised chest were.

Bound and tied, Flint was unable to move and barely able to breath for over fifteen minutes as the soldiers of the Northern Kingdoms organized the owls who had surrendered. Those that were uninjured enough to move were forced to do so, while those in Flint's condition were simply left laying where they were.

A Spotted owl of fair complexion landed near Flint with several other owls once all of Flint's comrades were restrained. Most strikingly, the owls were completely unarmed but rather carried large leather satchels containing fair quantities of whatever was inside. The body of the killed Masked owl had been unmoved unlike the body of the Great Horned owl and was laying motionless with its eyes open, staring blankly into nothingness. The Spotted owl closed his eyes and said something under his breath, almost as if in honor of the Masked owl, and he gently closed the dead owl's eyes with his talons.

Flint had never seen anything like this before, but he hardly had the consciousness to think much about it. His vision was beginning to fade again and he was extremely light headed. The Spotted owl looked down with pity at Flint and said something in his language to one of the soldiers who was flying overhead. The soldier grumbled something and more or less ignored him.

So the Spotted owl sighed and walked over to Flint. Quickly, he untied the knot of the vine that binded Flint's chest and wings. The moment that the vine loosened, Flint gasped in air finally unable to overcome his instincts that were crying like fire in his lungs for air. Greidawl, nearby Flint, had been unbound as well by another owl as well.

The Spotted owl reached into his leather pouch and pulled out a nutshell of an odd white cream and set it down next to Flint. Dipping a digit on which a claw had been trimmed and filed down into tiny, soft nub, the owl reached for Flint's face.

Flint reared back as far as he could, not knowing what the white substance was and wholly expecting it to inflict more pain.

In a gentle tone that took Flint off guard, the owl said, "Please don't be afraid, it's medicine."

The words fell so clumsily in Flint's brain that he was processing what the owl said and did not even notice that he was reaching for his injured face again.

Flint suddenly noticed a cool, calming sensation on the side of his face as the owl used his digit with the trimmed claw to gently rub the medicine into his wound and clean out the dirt. It was the most incredible feeling. The medicine actually felt cold, so when it met with the hot blazing heat of his injuries, the two feelings canceled out into a feeling of warm numbness.

The entire situation was so peculiar, Flint did not know what to even think. "What are you doing?" He asked as best he could.

"I'm tending your wounds." The owl stated with a pleasant, calming voice.

Flint looked at him questioningly, "I don''t understand. Why? I'm your enemy."

The owl smiled slightly, "You'll find that sometimes, things are not as clear cut as you think they are."

Still looking inquisitively at the owl, Flint still did not understand why he was showing such mercy. The owl took another item from its leather pouch, a bandage made of knitted moss, and placed it over the injured side of Flint's face.

"So tell me, young'un, what's your name?" The owl asked conversationally as he secured the bandage.

Flint was near tears because of this owl's incredible, unbelievable acts of kindness, so it took him a moment to say his name. "It's Flint."

"Flint..." The owl said musingly for a few moments. "That's a good name and it has a good meaning to it too." The owl looked deeply into Flint's eye that was not covered with the bandage for a few moments, "It means 'of great worth'." The owl then smiled at Flint, and then began feeling Flint's chest for broken bones.

Blown away by what the owl just said, Flint had no idea how to comment on the incredible statement the owl just made, so he simply asked the owl for his name. "What's your name?"

The owl looked back at Flint and smiled again, "Cleve. Cleve of Firthmore."

"Of Firthmore?" Flint asked.

"It was where I was hatched." Cleve replied, studying the severity of Flint's fractured ribs. In a complete change of subject, Cleve stated in a flat but slightly optimistic tone, "It looks as if you have two or three broken ribs, but they are not the most severely broken ones I've ever seen."

Flint looked up at Cleve, "Am I going to be okay?"

Solemnly contemplating the question for a few moments, Cleve said in a hopeful tone, "It depends. It could take up to six to eight weeks for the your ribs to heal."

Still as weak and dazed in the head as he was earlier, Flint shook his head limply and said, "No.. I've lost a lot of blood... I collapsed and my heart stopped; somehow, though, a medic saved me."

Stiffening slightly, Cleve's face was grim and serious. "You are hurt really badly, Flint. I don't know what to tell you."

That was what Flint was afraid he would hear, but Flint felt indebted to this owl.

He had been raised being told that 'mercy' is a vile word, a word whose meaning was an insult. To call a fellow Pure One 'merciful' is highly derogatory. Mercy, to a Pure One, is weakness. But Flint saw nothing weak about this owl, but instead, could sense a depth and tremendous strength of character in this owl for risking himself to help an enemy.

Indeed, Flint felt like he owed this owl something immense, his life perhaps, for showing him that mercy is in fact not bad.

"Thank you, Cleve. Thank you." Flint did not know what to say, so he simply spoke the emotion he was feeling at the moment. Gratitude.

"You are welcome, Flint. I am sure that your wound feels a lot better now." Cleve replied.

"No." Flint weakly corrected. "Thank you... for showing me that mercy is not bad."

Cleve was obviously taken aback by this statement for a moment. Then, he looked at Flint with pity, "I'm hoping that the Kielian League will let us show you a better life." Flint looked questioningly at Cleve, but did not ask anything as Cleve continued. "I have to go take care of the other injured owls, Flint. But I hope to see you again later."

"Okay." Flint said weakly.

Cleve smiled and quickly flew off after he packed the nutshell of cream back into his pouch.

The pain from Flint's side had subsided slightly so long as he did not draw too deep a breath, and the general activity of the past few minutes had slightly cleared his mind.

Now slightly more able to think clearly, Flint was awestruck by what had transpired. Those few moments, so brief, managed to stand out in Flint's mind as something special. The kindness was so special, that he was quite literally crying. Weeping for the deaths and because of the trauma of the previous night and the current day would come soon enough, but at the moment, these were not tears of sadness. Flint was crying because what had just happened had amazed him so greatly that he could not describe it even to himself. Such an act of kindness, and Flint could not understand why an owl would show such mercy. This made him cry all the harder

The owls who had surrendered were midway through being processed. Survivors with no injuries were bound around the wings and were lead over to stand in a line against the canyon wall. Those who had injuries that were severe enough to impair flight, Greidawl included, were lead over to another location where Cleve had flown over to. Flint and a few others, though were left where they were because they were too weak to even walk.

As time passed, Flint noticed through his tears that were now heartbroken tears of sadness that there was a difference.

The difference, he noticed, was one between the treatment bestowed upon the survivors shown by Cleve and his companions, whoever they were, verses that shown by the soldiers of the Kielian League.

The members of the Kielian League were acting closer to the way Flint would expect army to act, showing an odd mixture of restraint and brutality by sparing the lives of their enemies while also occasionally breaking military discipline by striking, shoving, or bludgeoning some owl that happened to be doing something wrong or was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually, they were still much more merciful than the Pure Ones would ever be, because whenever any large group of owls were captured, Flint knew that it was encouraged to hurt, injure, maim, or even kill any non-Tyto should doing so serve either the Pure Ones or the individual more good than otherwise.

But Cleve and the others like him that were numbering about twenty in total were something Flint had never seen before. Such mercy... such incredible mercy.

But the word 'mercy' suddenly summoned a dark, cruel memory.

A young Great Horned owl lays bound by vines, bathed in moonlight. Flint stands over her, and she looks up at him. The words of a terrified owl, so young, so scared, echo summoning much pity, _"Please, please have mercy..." _Flint ignores the plea and he unleashes something terrible inside of himself.

The carnage reaped by his own talons played through Flint's mind once again, adding to the near infinite number of mental replayings that he has been forced to endure. Flint asked himself how he could ever do such a thing, knowing deep down that he knew at the time what he was doing was wrong, very wrong.

And was she then much different than he, Flint, now is? Bound by injuries and unable to move, being at the mercy of the ones standing over him. Yet on the cruelty of the battle field, Flint survived.

Flint was suddenly hit with surrealness of his current situation again, flushing all previous thoughts from his mind. It did not seem possible that Eric and Amelia were dead, it was incomprehensible that the Pure Ones had been defeated so easily, and it seemed impossible that he could be injured so badly. Flint's mind just could not grasp these concepts and it looped over these thoughts time and time again leaving his mind in an almost timeless state, unable to notice its passing.

Like this for over twenty minutes, the thoughts were only broken when two surviving Pure Ones were prodded over to where Flint was laying by a member of the Kielian League. Carried between the two owls was a hammock like object made from vines and lemming leather. Flint immediately recognized the item in question as a variation of a medical transportation tool known as a Healer's Sling. It consisted of vines connecting to a large, square shaped piece of leather. The injured owl would be place in the center of the square of leather and the two owls carrying the sling by the vines would lift into the air, suspending the injured owl relatively safely in the cradle like bag.

The two Tytos, a Barn owl and a Masked owl, laid the leather portion of the sling down next to Flint. "Can you move?" The Masked owl asked.

Flint shook his head and managed to strain out a "No.".

"V'vaul di tuoy frisen ounveou naafuorh." With a sharp edge to his tone, the Kielian League soldier spoke in Krakkish. "Misnacht?"

The two owls looked at him blankly. He then repeated in angry butchered Hoolian, "Move you friend sling into now!"

Without saying a word, the two Tytos complied and began to try to roll Flint gently onto the sling.

One of them, the Barn owl, spoke to Flint. "Okay, we're going to try to get you onto this as gently as we can." Flint was relieved that it was the Barn owl that spoke, because if he was going to have to go through a lot of pain, he might as well not be forced to listen to a lower Tyto.

The Kielian League soldier was getting impatient as the owls slowly tried to move Flint. When he saw that little progress was being made within the first two seconds, he jammed his battleclaws against the back of the Barn owl who froze completely still.

"Naafuroh!" The soldier screeched, "Now!"

The Barn owl, nervous and stiff because of the sharp blades pressed against his back, looked at the Masked owl. "Okay, we're doing this quickly. On the count of three."

Flint's gizzard froze when he heard the owl say this, and as the Barn owl was counting down, Flint was trying to screech, "No, stop! Stop!" But he could not generate enough volume to make his statement effectively loud.

The two Pure Ones grabbed Flint by his left side and rolled him over onto the sling, the entire time Flint would have been screaming in agony had his chest not tensed and knocked the wind out of him when they first began moving him.

Fortunately, the process was quick and Flint was laying his back on the piece of leather in only a second. Both of the Pure Ones looked broken that they had put Flint through so much pain, but they were not given the chance to say anything because the soldier immediately prodded them to put the harnesses for the sling on. These harnesses were made of leather and fitted around the owl's body, held in place by their wings. Tied to them were the vines that attached to the sling Flint was in.

Once they had the harnesses secured, they were prodded into flight by the soldier. Because the two owls lifted off quickly and not quite at the same time, Flint was jostled around fairly well as the sling closed in around him. It was a terrifying experience, because he did not notice that the way the vines draw the sling in on itself and close in fully.

To Flint, it felt that at first like the leather was closing in on him and suffocating him. Panic struck him and a large squirt of adrenaline coursed through Flint, giving him a slightly better ability to struggle.

But slowly, it dawned on Flint that he was not being suffocated, even though he was engulfed in the thick blackness of the sling. Instead, as the time he spent inside of it increased from a few seconds to a few minutes, Flint's primary concern was the wing strokes of the owls carrying him because they jostled him around and aggravated his injured ribs. Flint determined the owls were flying in line with each other, one behind the other, judging by the way he was jostled around by each individual wing beat. It was altogether disorienting, because he was laying on his back - a position that is disorienting enough for birds - with his wings at his side and he could sense that he was moving through the air. But altogether, it was not unpleasant. The sling was warm, and the darkness was soothing for some reason. Flint felt that he could fall asleep at any time, but he was afraid to let himself do so. He did feel bad for the owls forced to carry him though.

_"Where are we going?"_ Flint asked himself. He had no idea if they were heading to the Northern Kingdoms, or maybe a base camp that is nearby. Because, even though he was somewhat at ease and free from pain in the medical sling, he did fear what was to come. What might he face in the following days and weeks? Where will he be?

Too much was unknown, but he knew that soon his future will be revealed to him. Whether or not he will like it, or even survive it for that matter, was still unknown, but he does know that he will be forced to face it.

Outside of the sling, the two owls that were carrying Flint were not alone. With them were scores of other surviving Pure Ones, each acting as a pair and carrying a injured Pure Ones in identical slings. Surrounding them, members of the Kielian League took to the task of carrying the injured that could not be carried by the Pure Ones because the wounded numbered so many. And surrounding them, the main forces of the Kielian League flew, weapons ready to strike any that dared to break formation and try to flee. Behind them, at a safe distance, flew the Cleve and his companions, the Glauxian Brothers and Sisters.

Their destination was set to the distant Northern Kingdoms, as the last major band of known survivors had just now been captured.

The war was over, the Pure Ones had lost.

But quietly, unknown to all but the Glauxian owls, a new war was beginning. This war, fought not for land and resources with battleclaws and iceblades, will be fought to win the change of the gizzards of the Pure Ones who had been taken prisoner. The weapons of this war will not be made of iron and ice, but rather words and deeds. Some owls had already been won, many were yet to be. But a few... A few of these owls can never be won.

Cleve, flying behind the massive formation of owls, quietly steadied himself. He is to be a soldier in this coming war, this war to save the owls who had survived. A gizzard resister he had always been, and one that he shall always be; to harm another owl is something he will never do. But this war is of ideologies, thoughts, and knowledge; the casualties will be ways of life and lines of thought. Thinking to himself, he remembered each and every owl that he helped heal today, for these owls shall be his objective for the next undefined period of time. Passing over each one in his mind, he analyzed each owl's personality and traits, readying things to say to them to try to help them.

When his thoughts passed over Flint, Cleve smiled to himself. _"There is hope for that one, his gizzard is good. There is much hope for him._


	23. Epilogue

The sky is lit by a hundred fragments of lighting as the blue, ethereal energy connects ground and sky for an instant while rain pummels the ground. It is the night of the battle of the burning, the night the Pure Ones fell.

A small, dark silhouette blackens a portion of the sky as if it were a shadow projected into open space. This _caliginous_ form, dark as the darkest shadows, flew onward with spiteful resolve.

In it's flight, there was a destination, and that destination was not far away.

Ahead, through the torrential rain, there was a small cavity in the canyon wall with a ledge in front of it. Inside, was the shadow's prize.

In the opening to this stone burrow were two owls, one injured, and the other tending to the injured owl's wounds while writing on a piece of parchment. They would pose a problem for the tenebrose shadow if the they were observant when she, the shadow, slipped by them.

The perceivable edges of the shadow's form blended into the surrounding air, smoke, and rain, to create perfect stealth.

Landing on the ledge, the shadow kept its body to the sheer cliff face that continued upwards. The injured owl was cupping her bleeding abdomen with her talons while she cried out in ravenous moans of pain. The other owl was busy trying to convince her to let go so he might treat the wound.

Using this distraction, the shadow took the chance to slip inside the burrow of stone. The inside was dark, but there was illumination from fire in a large metal dish near the front of the burrow.

The shadow was quick to distance itself from this light before it began checking for its possession. Having done so, a riffle moved through the shadow's black feathers in a wave like motion. It sensed something.

In an instant, the shadow moved to a corner where a shelf of books met the wall. A book was propped up in this location.

The shadow moved the book and found it's prize behind.

It was quick to don the battleclaws that matched its color.

Meanwhile the uninjured owl had turned from the injured one who had refused to release her grip on the deep wound. Instead, he was writing again on a piece of parchment.

Having taken his battleclaws off to first tend to the wounds of the female, then to write, the owl was unarmed.

Though he was facing into the hollow, the shadow decided to attack so it could leave without delay.

The dark form, standing at the back of the burrow, lifted into flight and lunged forward bearing its sacred weapons. However, the shadow had underestimated this owl

The owl that was writing saw the form illuminated by the coals in the fire dish only fractions of a moment after the shadow had begun the attack.

His battleclaws laying next to him, the old owl rapidly grasped them with the blades pointing away from him and swung upward.

The shadow's own momentum impaled it into the claws, the blades sinking deep into its gizzard. The old owl at the same moment rotated the blades and pulled upwards to stab the heart of this shadow. However, the mu metal blade that housed and reflected the magnetic flecks broke off inside the shadow.

This shadow, though was only a shadow in metaphor though, because it gave a pain filled gulp and indeed bled the blood of a Barn owl.

So this Barn owl, because the attacker's battleclaws had broken, did not lose its motion but rather continued forward because of previous exertion.

In the instant after, the shadowy owl's prized battleclaws pierced the other owl. These, though, did not break.

Instead, they carved flesh, and the aged Barn owl fell to the ground with mortal injuries.

The shadowy Barn owl landed in a daze, the imbedded blades in its gizzard burning like fire in its flesh and bringing mental numbness to its entire being.

Through this immense confusion and disorientation, the owl slashed the injured female, killing her. The shadowy Barn owl then lifted into flight with much disarray.

Standing just inside the entrance of a cavity underneath a pile of rocks was a young Barn owl. Next to her, was another owl, a male Masked owl close to her age while farther inside were over fifty unfledged owlets of varying species.

These two owls were the only ones remaining to take care of these owlets because their commanding officer and two others had been killed earlier, before the female, Cresla, had arrived.

With the proximity of the Guardians' weapons store and the fight taking place above, it was a wonder that they had not been found, especially considering the circumstances.

Cresal looked down at the quivering, murmuring black form farther inside the cavity. When she had first seen this black Barn owl, it had only been because of a lightning flash that had illuminated and reflected brightly off of this owl's absolutely water drenched feathers. Cresla had seen the owl crumpled on the ground below as she was flying to this location. At fist, she thought it had been a crow, but it was a good thing she thought to investigate.

The owl was in serious condition, barely able to fly, and completely delirious. Cresla had helped this black Barn owl back to this location and they both had managed to enter the cavity unseen.

_"This is terrible luck."_ Cresla thought to herself, looking back out the cavity's opening. She and her squadron had been specifically sent with these owlets to this location far from the center of Pure One territory to hide, so the Guardians would not be able to find them. As soon as they had arrived, though, they had made a ridge not one hundred yards away their primary weapons depot and resupply location.

There was fighting above hidden in the smoke, though. Maybe the Pure Ones were going to retake this location, thereby saving her and the fifty owlets.

A sound above caught Cresla's attention and she looked up. To her horror, directly above two owls, a Barn owl and a Great Grey, plummeted through the thick clouds locked to each other by their talons. The Barn owl was at a tremendous disadvantage, but he somehow managed to break free from the Great Grey's grasp and shot up into the air.

The Great Grey looked disoriented for one moment before he altered his flight path to keep from slamming into the ground. As he angled his flight to fly over to the nearby fire, something dropped from his talons.

There was a metallic ping as the object struck the ground, and Cresla realized that they were the Barn owl's battleclaws. She could not help but worry for her fellow Pure One and hope that he was not fighting alone. She, though, could not help lest she reveal their location.

The black Barn owl rustled and let out a long, delirious moan.

The Masked owl quickly wrapped his talons around the owl's beak and quieted the moaning, though both he and Cresla worried that the Guardian had heard the moan.

They both keenly watched as the Great Gray gathered two large burning sticks from the fire. And they heaved a sigh of relief when he lifted into the sky, having not heard the utterance.

Time passed, and there were faint sounds of battle. There were yells distorted by distance and wind. Suddenly, something above that was on fire began plummeting downward.

There was a knot in Cresla's gizzard, fearing that the flaming object was the Barn owl she had seen earlier.

She and the Masked owl looked up and out as they watched what was indeed a flaming owl spiral from the sky.

The tight spiral degraded and the owl entered into a head over talons tumble that ended forty feet above the ground ten yards in front of the cavity opening. In the moment that followed, the flaming owl managed to regain its flight and accelerated downwards on a steep flight path that ended when the owl collided with the ground and skidded several yards, kicking up massive quantities of mud and dirt.

This owl, though, was an old Great Horned owl.

The upheaved ground flowed over the owl's burning wings and extinguished the fire. Several moans of intense pain emanated from the Great Horned owl as she stood. From nowhere, a half dozen owls of varied species appeared not out of the smoke overhead, but rather flying low and close to the ground. They assisted her to her talons. Finally, one of them asked in a slow, moonblinked tone, "Ablah Skench, are you well?" The owl immediately wilfed when he realized that he had asked a question.

She glared at the question asker, "I should have you plucked for asking questions, but I need you at this moment."

Still smoldering from where her feathers were engulfed in fire, she saw Cresla and the Masked owl watching from the cavity. Behind them, she saw several heads belonging to curious owlets peering out to see what had just happened.

She grinned cruelly and turned to one of her secret guard, "I need you to gather our forces that I had sent away when we saw the invasion was coming. Have them come back and we shall gather the owlets of the Pure Ones and use them to rebuild St. Aegoleous to its former glory."

Cresla nodded at her comrade, the Masked owl. They both knew that they were going to fight to protect the owlets, even if they were outnumbered three to one by owls of larger species.

They both charged into the open air, into the heavy rain, to attack.

They were quickly overpowered and restrained, and the owlets they were protecting could not resist.

Pleased with her luck, Skench walked over to the cavity and surveyed the owlets. She then saw the murmuring, crumpled form of the black Barn owl.

She smiled to herself. Out of disaster, she now has obtained the tools to rebuild her glorious regime.


End file.
